


Runaway Darling

by solvetheminourdreams



Series: Getaway [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Author Louis, Baker Harry, Bridesman?, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Harry is the Best Man, Humor, I suppose they’re American in this?, Louis is a Bridesmaid, M/M, No Smut, Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, cliche in the best way, idiots to lovers, they say "mate" a lot, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solvetheminourdreams/pseuds/solvetheminourdreams
Summary: “You’re coming?” Louis seethes while starting the ignition.“If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, drive my car than you’re even more idiotic than I originally thought.”Louis puts the car in drive and turns to Harry with narrowed eyes, not lifting his foot from the brake. “Listen here, you curly haired—”“Oh my God, just fucking drive!” Ada screams. Both of their eyes widen and Louis nearly slams his foot on the accelerator as he starts to whip out of the parking lot as quickly as it took him to turn on the car.Or an AU where Louis hates weddings, Harry loves them, and together they help a bride skip hers.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Getaway [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995652
Comments: 92
Kudos: 422





	Runaway Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to check out my very first fic, I'm super excited to finally be able to post this story and even more excited for you all to read it! 
> 
> I got the idea for it after a random listen to Runaway Baby by Bruno Mars (??) and then sort of ran with it lol
> 
> Shoutout to my lovely betas (you know who you are <3) for encouraging me to write and post this (bc I was quite nervous to). 
> 
> **i'm currently not allowing translations, and please do not repost this work anywhere — i do check other platforms. thank you :)**
> 
> (and if you see that someone HAS posted my fic somewhere else, please let me know on [tumblr](https://solvetheminourdreams.tumblr.com/) :) )

It’s raining the morning of Ada’s wedding. 

Which is truly, just perfect. It isn’t subtle, not a light mist where you can barely feel it or where you can’t decipher it from fog at a distance. No, it’s an _absolute_ downpour. She’s actually quite surprised to see guests are still arriving. 

A part of her knows (but would never say out loud, no, of course not) that if this wasn’t her _own fucking wedding_ , she would have stayed home and sent the bride and groom a nice gift from their registry. Because, to be quite frank, it’s absolutely miserable outside. She commends the people who like her enough to show up. 

She waits in a room on the second floor of the vineyard’s main building. This is where she’s meant to get dressed, have a toast with her bridal party, and have them dab tears from her eyes with a fancy handkerchief that she’s _certain_ they would have never thought to use until then. 

From her window, she can see black and grey umbrellas moving back and forth between the valet service and the recently-covered patio where the ceremony will be held.

To Ada, it looks more like guests are arriving at a funeral, rather than what her mother and friends claim will be “the best day of her life.” 

She listens to the relentless sound of rain droplets hit her window sill from where she’s sat, which is right in front of the room’s vanity. The _tap tap tap_ of the rain grows louder the more she focuses on her reflection. She can’t tell if it’s starting to rain harder or if the thoughts that have been whirring around her brain for the last few days have finally fallen silent. 

She looks beautiful, as a bride-to-be usually does. With her wedding dress finally on, she has a first look at what, for the most part, is her full appearance; what she’ll look like walking down the aisle and in photographs she’s expected to cherish for the rest of her life and then some. 

Ada cleans up rather nicely.

Her hair is done in an elaborate up-do with a shiny, bedazzled clip near the front, her makeup done naturally—not too dramatic; just the way she likes it. Lord knows she couldn’t have done it herself, so she makes a mental note to thank Summer and Louis later for convincing her to have it done by a professional. 

After lightly dabbing at the concealer covering her under eyes, Ada glances at what she's been reluctant to look at all morning, much less put on her head. 

The veil sits on the grey ottoman near the corner of her room. White, slightly sparkling due to the lamp near it, and topped off with a clip that will soon fasten to the one currently in her hair. 

If you were to ask anyone at the vineyard, it’s perfect; looking nearly poetic as it glows in the light. 

It truly is a beautiful veil, Ada quite likes it. 

Right now though, it’s taunting her. 

She hears a knock at the door and quickly snaps her head away from the item. Before she can process what’s happening, Summer barges in with her hands to her left ear, presumably fixing her earring. Using her foot, she slams the door shut behind her the second she fully enters the room.

Ada smirks at the sound of Louis groaning behind it, his head hitting the door with a light thud. 

“I swear, he’s the least patient person I’ve ever met, and this is only my second time seeing him in person,” Summer mutters before looking at her reflection in the vanity. She’s slightly behind Ada, dabbing at her red-stained lips. Both of their reflections staring back at them through the mirror. 

“He’s excited. It’s not everyday that you get to be a bridesman.” 

“I don’t think excited is the correct term here,” her maid of honor says with an eye roll. She may be attempting to look annoyed, but Ada knows Summer actually likes Louis. After they first met at her 23rd birthday party and (tipsily) bonded over the open bar provided, she knew they’d get on well.

“Hey,” Summer continues, “are you ready to go? I think it’s about time to head down for the ceremony. You know, tight schedule...you being _the bride_ , and all.” 

Ada remains quiet and looks down at her manicured nails. There’s still remnants of dark red polish from a few days ago in the corners of her nail beds. Her mother had insisted on a nude shade for the wedding a little too late. 

At her silence, Summer’s face quickly morphs into something hesitant. Not even her best friend, that she’s known since _college_ , knew what Ada was thinking. Honestly, who would? Ada isn’t entirely sure herself.

There’s an old saying about rain on your wedding day...well, _apparently_. Ada doesn’t know much about it; her mother told her this morning when they first stepped outside and saw the grey clouds hovering over them. But you know, background. 

The saying goes on to say that rain on your wedding day means your marriage will last. _'_ _When a knot becomes wet, sweetie, it’s extremely difficult to untie. So when you tie the knot, your marriage is just as hard to come undone!’_ Those are the words Ada’s mother said to her, words that haven’t left her mind since she started getting ready this morning. 

The saying says that the fucking _weather_ has determined that her marriage will last, essentially, forever. 

And all Ada can think is that something can’t last forever if it never begins in the first place. 

⸻

Louis has always hated weddings. 

It’s not that he’s a pessimist or hates romance (which some of his friends might _think,_ but he respectfully disagrees, _thank you_ ). He simply hates having to find a date, having to pretend to dab at his eyes when the lovely couple finally says “I do,”and having to, most likely, make a toast at the bride and groom’s request. 

He’s quite funny, if he does say so himself. 

He doesn’t hate dating, which...well, okay _maybe_ he hates dating. He doesn’t hate romance though, promise! It’s just that a wedding isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be, the place for a first date (talk about _jumping the gun_ ). And considering he usually doesn’t let the men he takes out get past the first date anyway, well, you can see where his frustration stems from. 

(He’s rather picky.) 

But when one of your best friends and your _publisher_ asks you to not only attend her wedding, but be _in_ it, you can’t really make up an excuse to get out of it.

Especially when she determines whether your next novel will be a New York Times Bestseller. 

But of course, Louis is happy for Ada. 

She’s been quite nervous for the past couple of days from what he can tell. Not completely focused during their read throughs of his newest book, always giving short responses when he started complaining about Zayn not locking the door to their apartment, and always gazing out the window of her office like their view of the Empire State Building holds the answers to everything (it doesn’t). 

She must be glad the day has finally arrived, the day where she will finally start the rest of her life. 

And…no.

He’s always found that saying odd and honestly, quite insulting. As if another person is the sole denominator for a better and happier life. _Give him a break._

This may be why Louis’ friends call him pessimistic, but he chooses not dwell too long on that. 

At least with being Ada’s bridesman—he still hasn’t figured out if that’s _actually_ a term—he’ll be able to explain to guests why he decided to fly solo for the lovely occasion: _‘I’ll be so busy attending to the bride, how can I possibly focus all my attention on a date?’_

(He personally thinks the excuse is rather brilliant.)

(Ada and her mother disagree.)

Right now though, he really wishes he didn’t _actually_ have to attend to the bride, because the bride and her maid of honor have been cooped up in the room he’s currently pacing outside of for the past _twenty minutes._

Summer had sworn she only went in to make sure Ada was dressed and ready to walk down the aisle, but Louis figured this would happen. This may only be his second time meeting her in person, but he knows her practically as well as Ada at this point. Her facetime calls during Louis and Ada’s wine nights are rather frequent.

So, he waits outside the room. He _waits and waits and waits_ , until he can barely take it. He thought after repeatedly banging his head against the door they’d get the message, but all he hears in return are hushed whispers followed by the occasional profanity from Summer.

With a final look toward the door, he glances down at his watch; 11:30 a.m. The ceremony starts at one, and they all need to be in the waiting room near the patio in thirty minutes if they want everything to remain on schedule. 

If there is one thing Louis hates more than weddings, it’s being late. 

He runs a hand down his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. There’s still a dull pain behind his right eye from his hangover, and he pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe it. He probably shouldn’t have gone too hard at the groom’s bachelor party, but one of the groomsmen had insisted. 

He’s never listening to Niall again, or anyone else he barely knows for that matter. 

With all of his patience exhausted, he takes a step forward to bang on the door. Sure, he’ll get an earful from Summer at some point because of this and possibly owe her a round of shots at the reception, but he would rather have that than Ada’s mother screaming at the three of them for being late. 

In the time it takes for Louis to raise his hand up to the door, it swings open to reveal Summer. He takes a step back in surprise when she comes into view and places a hand over his heart to catch his breath. 

He may only be twenty-six, but he’s far too old to be caught off guard like that.

Sending a glare to the maid of honor, he takes a deep breath. “For fucks sake Summer, what is taking you two—” 

“I need your car keys,” she demands, almost frantically. 

And that’s not what he expected. 

“Car keys,” he says slowly, almost positive he didn’t hear her correctly. 

“Yes…” she replies just as slow, almost uncertainly. After taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she continues, “Yeah, car keys,” she says quickly. “Where are your keys?” 

That makes Louis finally take in her appearance. She plays with the gold rings on her fingers, twisting each of them up towards the second knuckle before pushing them back to the first. Her previously red-stained lips were now pursed and almost back to their natural tone, probably from rubbing them together. The curls in her hair are a little looser than before, like she’s run her fingers through them too many times, and there’s almost a permanent crease on her forehead. 

Ada mentioned it once. She only got it when she was stressed.

Ignoring her demands, he tries to get a look inside the room. He looks for any sign that would tell him what in God’s name has happened, but Summer catches him peeking over her shoulder and immediately shuts the door behind her, leaving them both in the empty hallway. 

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” he huffs out, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s far too much going on and far too little information. Louis doesn’t like to think of himself as a control freak, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find out what is going on within the next five seconds. “You look like you’re simultaneously about to cry and go on a rampage.” 

“I just need your car keys, Lou,” she pleads, grabbing his hands. He cocks his head to the side, Summer was never one for touching, or pleading for that matter. “I can’t explain right now, there’s not enough _time_ to explain this right now.”

“Well, I don’t have my car here. I was too hungover to drive this morning.” She dips her head back in a loud groan before running a hand through her hair. Looks like he wasn’t wrong about how her curls loosened. “Did you forget something at Ada’s apartment? I can probably—” 

“No, I didn’t forget anything.” 

“Well why do you—”

“Do you know anyone here with a car?” she asks desperately.

He can easily badger her on why she wants a car if she has everything she needs here. At this point though, he really doesn’t think she’ll give in and answer him. She’d find a way to get a car one way or another. 

But frankly, Louis is intrigued and doesn't want her to go to anyone else.

“Harry has a car,” he shrugs. “He drove me and Niall to the bachelor party last night.” 

“Styles? The fucking _best man?_ ” She rubs small circles at her temples. “That’s just fucking perfect.” 

Louis can relate to her agitation, even if she doesn’t know it. Harry Styles isn’t necessarily someone he’d like to ask for help either. 

She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts from whatever they had wandered to. “Okay, I’m going to go ask him for the keys,” she says, mostly to herself. When she starts to walk away, rather quickly, Louis places a hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

“Hang on a minute,” he demands. “Can you at least tell me why you’re so desperate for a car that you’re asking someone you barely know for theirs?” 

“Louis—” she stops herself and takes a deep breath. “Just get Ada and meet me at Harry’s car in five minutes.” She points at the door that, just moments ago, Louis was barely allowed to touch. 

“Excuse me, I’m doing what?” he sputters, taking a large step toward Summer. He tilts his head to the side to put his ear near her, because he certainly couldn’t have heard her properly. She simply rolls her eyes, throwing Louis a look that tells him he needs to shut up.

But of course, he doesn’t, because when has he ever? 

“Why in God’s name—” 

“Louis, _go.”_ She turns away and practically _sprints_ down the vacant hallway. Her long, emerald dress partly bunched into her right hand lets her move at a brisker pace. 

Louis looks after her, mouth slightly agape. How did he almost get his head ripped off for asking a simple fucking question? 

He almost forgets he’s been told—no, _ordered—_ to grab the bride and take her to a car...a fucking _car._ And for what? 

There is no way they’ll be at the patio on time, it’s probably—yeah, it’s already 11:50.

Louis is going to faint. 

After taking a moment to collect his thoughts (there aren’t many to be fair, considering he still has no idea what the _fuck_ Summer was going on about), he turns back toward the door. 

The door that’s been slammed in his face more times than he can count. Oh, but _now_ he’s supposed to go in there? 

“For fucks sake, this better be good,” he mutters to himself before swinging it open. It takes him a minute, but when his eyes finally land on Ada, his first and closest friend ever since he first landed in New York City all those years ago, he suddenly can't move.

She’s standing by the window, dressed in white and biting her nails. Ada almost doesn’t notice the door when it opens, but when Louis clears his throat her attention immediately focuses on him. 

Louis doesn’t know what he expected her current state to be. But he certainly doesn’t expect the words that come out next. 

“Thank God,” she groans. In a swift movement she grabs her clutch and slips on her heels before walking towards Louis, and then past him. “I thought you’d never come in. Come on, we need to go.” 

And, again, Louis’ head starts spinning so fast that he really thinks, just for a moment, that he’s going to collapse onto the carpet. 

“No, absolutely fucking not.” He storms past _Ada_ and blocks the door. She raises an eyebrow at him, but he stays put. “What the hell is going on? You both are saying _‘Louis, do this,’_ and _‘Louis, do that,’_ but no one’s told me a Goddamn thing!” 

“Summer didn’t explain to you what’s happening?” Louis shakes his head and she tries to let out a laugh, but it falls short. “Of course she’d leave that to me.” 

“Are you going to explain or—’” 

“I can’t marry him, Louis,” she interrupts. 

At this point, Louis is convinced the day isn’t real. 

“Jackson? What do you—” 

“I just _can’t,_ ” she repeats frantically. “I thought I could go through with it, but I can’t be married to the guy. God, _have you met him?”_

And...yeah, Louis has. A couple of times, actually. Jackson is....a character, to say the least. Owns a gym down in Brooklyn, moved up here from New Jersey. 

Does Louis hate him? _Not particularly_ , but he doesn’t necessarily go out of his way to grab a drink with him either (well, besides last night, but that was against his will). If he’s skipped a couple of dinners at Ada’s because he didn’t feel like listening to the guy go _on and on_ about hitting a new PR on weights, well, no one has to know that. 

Louis isn’t one to judge though, he’s had his fair share of boyfriends that she wasn’t particularly fond of. Besides, Ada’s happy with him and that’s all Louis can really ask for.

Well, at least he _thought_ she was. 

“ _Yes_ , but—” 

“Can we please walk and talk?” she groans, motioning for him to get a move on. When he just stares at her, she grabs his arm and tugs him out of the room, wrinkling the sleeve of his suit jacket in the process, but he assumes that doesn’t matter now anyway. 

So, this is _actually_ happening. 

What the fuck? 

The two of them walk at a brisk pace down the hallway. “Summer may have not given you the details, but she didn’t lie about having to hurry.” 

“This feels like a fever dream, are you even real? Are you actually fleeing your wedding? Is this a Hallmark movie?” he asks somewhat dazed, letting Ada basically drag him through the building. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” she says. Which in turn, has Louis absolutely _reeling._

“Don’t be dra—” he cuts himself short when one of the owners of the vineyard passes them. The two of them flash tight smiles at him, which he returns with a loving gaze. Probably excited for the wedding, _awkward._ “Don’t be _dramatic?”_ he whispers harshly. "You’re leaving your husband at the fucking altar!” 

“He’s not my husband yet,” she clarifies. “Well, I guess he won’t ever be at this point.” 

“You cannot possibly be joking about this right now.” 

“Too soon?” she questions innocently with a head tilt. Pushing the exit open, she inhales the cool air. The rain has lightened up a bit, only a light mist remains. “I think I heard through the door that she’s grabbing Harry’s keys?” 

Louis nods and Ada purses her lips together. “I’ve met him a couple of times. Good guy, asks a lot of questions though. Hopefully he doesn’t give her a lot of trouble.” 

“Yeah, he does ask a lot of questions, doesn’t he?” Louis mutters in agreement, thinking about his first conversation with Harry; which happened about fifteen hours ago. 

Ada looks at him curiously, but chooses to ignore it. Time and place and all that. “Well? Which is his car?” 

Louis surveys the parking lot, it isn’t nearly as full as the lot the valet service is using. The wedding party got here way before guests began arriving. Once he spots it, he takes hold of her hand. “Black jeep, towards the back.” 

She sighs in relief and they quickly make their way to it. Louis looks around to make sure no one glances in their direction; with his suit, her wedding dress, and them running towards a car, this isn’t a situation they want to get caught in. 

Harry had backed into the spot, so they stand near the trunk; facing away from the venue and hopefully, away from late guests. It’s 11:56. In almost one hour, Ada’s expected to walk down the aisle. 

It’s at this moment that Louis wishes he added that extra shot of espresso into his latte this morning. He had no idea just how long this day would actually end up being. 

He already needs a nap. And some Ibuprofen. 

“You’re quiet. In my four years of knowing you, I’ve never seen you _not_ speak your mind about something,” Ada points out as they both stare out at the fields surrounding the venue. They’re leaning against the car doors, waiting for Summer to run out at any minute with the keys. 

“I just don’t get it.” He looks over to Ada, but her eyes stay fixed at the fields in front of them. “You never said anything about calling it off.” 

She doesn’t say anything immediately, and Louis wishes that she would have come to him about this. Maybe then they wouldn’t be sneaking out of the venue.

Or even be here in the first place. 

They were both new to New York when they moved here four years ago, with Louis coming down from Boston and Ada up from Charleston. During the first week of their jobs at Penguin Random House they decided to take the subway together after work, but failed to tell each other they still hadn’t quite figured out the routes. 

That landed them in Queens for the rest of the day, and glued to the hip ever since.

“I tried not to think about it too much,” she admits while taking off her heels. She drops them next to her, onto the wet gravel of the parking lot. “You really didn’t notice anything different?” 

“Thought it was nerves,” he shrugs. “If I would have known—”

“I didn’t _want_ you to know,” she sighs, taking the clip out of her hair. Light brown strands start to fall over her shoulders, finally free from the up-do that was no doubt giving her a headache. She runs her fingers through it a couple of times to make it presentable. “You or Summer. I thought I could get over it.” 

“That’s not a way to look at a marriage though, is it?” When he turns to look her in the eyes, Ada is already facing him with a neutral expression. “As something you can just deal with?” 

She turns away and takes her bottom lip in between her teeth. “No, I guess not.” 

It’s silent after that. There’s nothing they can really do besides wait for Summer to meet them. Louis doesn’t know what to say to her, doesn’t want to yell or chastise her, because really, he gets it. 

He understands wanting to make it work. Wanting to make it work _so badly_ that no matter what is going against them, they’ll do anything to get to the other side. Even if it’s already too late. Even if it puts their own happiness in jeopardy. 

He’s not one to judge. Has no room to, really. 

After what seems like an eternity (it’s really only been forty-five more seconds, but math has never been Louis’ thing), Summer rushes towards them with keys dangling in front of her face and her heels in her free hand.

“We need to leave _now,”_ she says completely out of breath. “I barely got these from Harry, he asks too many fucking questions.” 

“We know,” both Louis and Ada answer simultaneously. Louis grabs the keys from Summer’s grasp before turning towards the driver’s side of the vehicle. He unlocks the doors, but turns his attention to the runaway bride before entering. 

“Just one more time,” he says, “tell me you are _one hundred percent sure_ about this.” 

“Louis, seriously—” 

“You talked to her about it for twenty minutes, but I only got five,” he snaps at Summer, keeping his eyes locked with Ada. “Tell me you’re sure.” 

She nods slowly, “I’m sure, Lou.” 

Which, Louis figured. But _holy shit._

He’s about to drive a getaway car. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabs the handle of the door. “Alright—”

_“What the hell is going on?”_

In hindsight, Louis figures they should’ve seen this coming. 

The three of them whip their heads to the front of the parking lot to see none other than Harry Styles walking toward them. Louis can see his confusion as he half-walks, half-jogs over to them with furrowed brows. Dressed in a tailored black suit; his sheer black blouse has a few buttons opened, revealing a fucking _butterfly_ on his chest; and his short curly hair is pushed back, only a single strand falling to the front of his face. 

He looks good, and it’s rather annoying to Louis. 

“Why do you think I’ve been telling you guys that we need to go _now,”_ Summer grits through her teeth, waving her hands in the direction of Harry. 

“For fucks sake,” he groans, hitting his head against Harry’s car window. If there’s one person he didn’t want to deal with right now, it was the lanky man coming towards them. 

“What the _hell_ , Summer?” he breathes out once he reaches the three of them. Louis turns his head slightly to get a better look at Harry, but doesn’t take it off the window. “You can’t just take off and expect me not to—oh, it’s _you_ ,” Harry says with distaste once his eyes land on Louis. 

“How drunk were you when you decided to get a butterfly on your chest?” Louis quips.

“It’s a moth.” 

“Right,” Louis says flatly. “How drunk were you?”

“Why do you assume I was drunk when I got it?”

“There’s a huge _butterfly_ in the middle of your chest.” He doesn’t feel like he needs to explain further. Harry narrows his eyes in his direction before focusing his attention on Ada and Summer. 

“Ada? What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready? I think your mother’s looking for you? I mean, that’s what she—” 

“ _Aaaand_ he’s in interrogation mode,” Louis sings, closing his eyes. Harry glares at him before turning back to Ada expectedly. 

“I’m leaving,” she says, dodging the question.

“Leaving? When will you be back?” 

“I’m not coming back…?” she says slowly, but it comes out more like a question. He stares at her with his eyebrows furrowed, not following. “I can’t marry him, Harry.”

“What?” he laughs, assuming that she's joking.

“Harry,” Ada sighs, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. She’s staring at the taller man, waiting nervously for him to say anything, and probably _praying_ he doesn’t go to rat them out. She bounces her left foot up and down. “Please.” 

When Harry realizes she's _completely_ serious he opens his mouth to say something, but abruptly closes it again. Louis has to use all of his willpower to hold back a smirk at the sight of him gaping like a fish. He has no room to mock, still not entirely convinced that Danica McKellar isn’t about to pop up from under the Jeep and talk about saving Christmas. 

“What do you mean you _can’t marry him?!”_ Harry nearly shrieks. 

He’s met with silence. 

Louis clears his throat before turning around to lean against the car. He places his foot near the bottom of the door and twirls the keys to Harry’s car on his finger. “I think she means exactly that, mate.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief and Louis thinks back to the man gushing about today at the bar last night. Harry _loves_ weddings, apparently. Loves going to them, loves seeing everyone all loved up (even though he’s single), and Louis can’t fathom how someone can enjoy them _that_ much.

He pointedly ignores his friends’ voices in his head telling him he’s cynical. 

“I don’t get it,” Harry starts, “you two seemed so—” 

“Listen Styles, she’s made up her mind. We need to go now,” Louis says before turning to open the car door. They’re really cutting it close now, it’ll be minutes until Ada’s mom goes and finds out where her daughter is. 

“But...what... _oh_ , this was _your_ idea, wasn’t it?” he snaps his head back toward Louis. 

What? 

“I beg your pardon?” Louis sputters, slightly high-pitched. He shuts the car door and turns towards the man in front of him. He’s just as much in the dark as Harry is. 

Summer clears her throat, eyes darting between them nervously. Ada just stands there, smirking. “Guys, we really should be going.”

“No, hold on! Why do you assume this is _my_ idea?!” Louis snaps. He did _not_ appreciate Harry insinuating that he’s trying to ruin his best friend’s wedding. 

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Harry scoffs. “You and your bitter outlook on romance and—” 

“Bitter outlook?!” 

“Guys—” 

_“Yes_ Tomlinson, you obviously—” 

“This wasn’t even my idea! It was Summer’s!” Louis nearly screams, because honestly, who the fuck does this guy think he is? He was dragged out of the venue by the bride _herself._

This is slander, that’s what this is. 

Summer looks at Louis appalled. “You’re seriously throwing _me_ under the bus for this? The keys are in your fucking hands!” 

Ignoring her, Harry continues berating Louis. “Maybe it wasn’t your idea, but—but you’re still a willing accomplice!” 

“Well I don’t see you running to the groom right now, do I?!” 

“Because I don’t even know what the fuck is going on!” 

“Neither do I!” Louis screams. “I’m just trying to give my best friend what she wants!”

“And _this_ is the way to do it?” 

“Okay mom, I’ll be sure to double check with you next time I want to drive the getaway car at a wedding,” he counterattacks while simultaneously flipping Harry off. If there’s one person he doesn’t need a lecture from, it’s the 24-year-old best man. “For fucks sake, why are you still here? I expected you to be halfway to Jackson’s room by now.” 

“Jackson isn’t in his room anymore,” Summer notes. 

“Where is he then?” 

She points toward the doors of the venue. “Right there, probably looking for Harry.” 

And just like she said, Jackson is outside talking to the minister. 

All of their eyes widen and they duck behind the jeep at the speed of light. “Shit,” Louis whispers harshly, glaring at Harry. He carefully moves his head higher, trying to get a peek at the groom. If Harry hadn’t come out, they could have been out of here by now. 

Fuck him and his questions, honestly (Louis ignores his subconscious telling him he would’ve done the same thing, because surely he wouldn’t have. _Surely_ ). 

“We need to leave _now_ ,” Ada whispers back, ducking her head lower when Jackson looks in their direction. Louis thinks the panic in her voice is long overdue.

She has been too calm about this. 

“We needed to leave five minutes ago, but if someone stopped asking so many damn—” 

“There is no way you’re blaming _me_ for this right now,” Harry nearly growls, staring him down darkly. Louis blinks.

And, _okay._ He’s going to ignore the feeling he gets from that and continue to glare at Harry. Yeah, that’s a good idea. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying—” 

“Both of you need to shut up,” Summer snaps. “Get in the car!” 

There’s something in the way Summer sounds when she’s serious, but no one _ever_ questions her. Something similar occurred two nights ago when she asked (demanded) Louis to take shots with her at three in the morning. You simply agree, and you don’t ask questions. 

Almost immediately, they all—including _Harry—_ pile into the car. Louis in the driver’s seat, Harry crawling to the opposite side to get into the passengers, and the girls sliding into the back. 

_“You’re coming?!”_ Louis seethes while starting the ignition. 

“If you think I’m going to let _you_ , of all people, drive my car then you’re even more idiotic than I originally thought.” 

Louis puts the car in drive and turns to Harry with narrowed eyes, not lifting his foot from the brake. “Listen here you curly haired cunt—”

“Oh my God, just fucking drive!” Ada screams. Both of their eyes widen and Louis nearly slams his foot on the accelerator as he starts to whip out of the parking lot as quickly as it took him to turn on the car.

When they start driving through the valet service, which is the only thing that stands between them and the open road, Harry and the girls scoot lower into their seats. Louis can only thank them in his head for that, because he has to try to smile nonchalantly at everyone he drives by. 

They throw him questioning looks, probably recognizing him from the wedding party, though he doesn’t spare them another glance. He’s not religious, but he thanks God that all of their families are already inside and waiting for the ceremony to start.

And _oh God,_ what the hell are they going to tell their families? 

The minute he takes a right turn out of the vineyard and onto the roads of Red Hook, the four of them let out sighs of relief. 

“I’m going to be honest, I didn’t see us getting away with this,” Summer admits, being the first one to break the silence. 

“I cannot believe I let you all drag me into this,” Harry mumbles into his hands. He’s slouched forward, running his hands down his face before using them to push his hair back. “I barely even know Ada, much less _you_ ,” he says pointing to Louis, “and even less you,” he turns back to Summer. 

“Hey, we did tequila shots at the rehearsal dinner yesterday,” she defends. “We bonded.” 

“You made the whole table do them, I wouldn’t count that.” 

“Well—”

“Did I really just leave someone at the altar?” Ada asks, eyes wide. 

Harry and Summer turn to her immediately and Louis looks at her through the rearview mirror. He bites the inside of his cheek when he sees her pale reflection, and can’t help but think that maybe, _just maybe_ , there could have been another way to get out of this.

Okay, there definitely was ( _hello,_ communication), but he can’t bring that up now. There’s no turning back at this point. She’s called off the wedding, even if it isn’t official yet. 

Looking at the ring on her left hand, Ada slowly takes it off. She flips it around in her fingers for a moment and takes a deep breath; everyone watches her, but no one moves a muscle. 

Before anyone can stop her, she rolls down her window and throws it out to the open dirt road. 

Louis nearly swerves off into a ditch at her actions.

From there, chaos ensues.

“Ada!” Summer screams, scandalized. 

“Oh my God, you can’t just throw engagement rings out the window! That probably cost more than six months of my rent!” Louis complains, all thoughts of him convincing Ada to sell it on eBay going out the window with the ring. 

“I’m pretty sure he would’ve wanted that back,” Harry comments softly. 

“I honestly don’t think you know what he wants.”

“Oh and you do?” Harry scoffs, turning to Louis. “Last time I checked, I was the best man and you were the bridesman.” 

“Right, I forgot you were the best man,” Louis agrees, drawing out his sentence. “Well, that says a lot about _your_ character now, doesn’t it?” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Jackson clearly isn’t the greatest—”

“Jesus Christ, you guys met _last night_. How the hell are you already down each other’s throats?” Summer interrupts.

“He’s a douche.” 

“He’s entitled.” 

The two men lock eyes at their simultaneous answers, both offended by the other’s words. 

To be fair, he isn’t entirely sure what made him and Harry dislike each other so much initially. All he remembers is how he tried to avoid him like the plague after their conversation at the bar, but failed miserably in doing so.

Summer’s eyes dart between the two of them, bewildered, and Ada simply raises an eyebrow, not paying them much mind. 

Louis thinks it’ll be awhile before she speaks again. 

But, the ceremony is supposed to start in approximately fifty-five minutes, and he has no idea where to go from here.

 _Fucking hell_ , he really wishes they had thought this through. 

**_⸻15 HOURS EARLIER⸻_ **

“I just don’t understand why you two want me to go so badly,” Louis mumbled, plopping onto Ada’s couch with a bag of Cheetos in his hands. He quickly ripped it open to start eating his snack, he’d been looking forward to this moment all night. The fancy restaurant Ada’s mother made them have the rehearsal dinner at was fucking vegan (no shame to people who choose that, but Louis likes a nice steak from time to time, thank you very much), so he didn’t really eat much.

“And I don’t understand why you _don’t_ want to go, you love clubbing,” Ada said. She watched him dig into the bag from the other couch. 

“You kept dragging me to the dance floor every fifteen minutes at Ada’s birthday party that one year,” Summer added while coming into the living room from the kitchen. She stole a Cheeto from Louis before taking a seat next to Ada, smiling cheekily at his pointed glare. 

“That was two years ago, I’m a changed man,” he argued. The two girls rolled their eyes at that. 

“Right. I forgot you went from being twenty-six to forty.” Louis threw a Cheeto at Summer’s head in response. 

Ada’s wedding was in the morning. They had just gotten back from the rehearsal dinner, slightly buzzed, but more tired than the three of them expected to be. 

Which was why he was perfectly fine with her suggestion at a night in, rather than the usual bachelorette party everyone else had. As long as he’d have wine, he would be fine. 

There was a bottle in the fridge with his name on it and he was about to suggest they watch _Love, Rosie._ Life was good. 

That however, was until both of them decided they would try to convince him to go out with Jackson and his groomsmen.

Which... _no thanks._ Louis was good by all accounts. 

“Come on Lou,” Summer continued. “Niall seemed so excited when you agreed at dinner! Besides, you need to bond with them, they’re all going to be around a lot more often after tomorrow.” 

Louis ignored her and turned to Ada, but she simply nodded, hyper-focused on the condensation forming on her wine glass. 

And yeah, he _had_ seemed pretty excited. Much like Ada, Jackson only had one groomsmen (Niall) and a best man. Niall sat next to him during dinner and Louis quickly realized he was quite the character; always laughing, always with a beer in his hand. So when he asked Louis to come along to the Bachelor party tonight and Jackson had agreed, Louis was polite. But to be clear, he didn’t flat-out say _yes_. 

“I said I’d think about it, that’s completely different than me agreeing to go.” 

“He gave you his number so you’d call him when you were ready. He’s fully expecting you to go.” 

“But I _really_ don’t want to,” he groaned, slumping further into the couch. He stuffed another three Cheetos in his mouth before licking the powder off of his fingers. Summer grimaced. 

Did he recognize that he was acting like a child? Of course he did, Louis was nothing but self aware. That however, did not change the fact that he rather cuddle with a bottle of Pinot Noir tonight. 

“That’s too bad, because I already told Jackson you were going. He said Niall’s going to call you when he’s outside,” Ada said, getting up to grab the corkscrew from the island in her kitchen. Were they already onto the second bottle? “Jackson’s already at the club getting everything set up, so it’s going to be Niall and the best man picking you up.” 

“The best man? Who, the kid that spoke to your sister the entire dinner about croissants?” She could _not_ be serious. 

“Harry? Yeah, think he’s driving,” she confirmed over her shoulder, making her way to the fridge to take out a slightly bigger bottle. 

Louis pouted when she popped out the cork, he’d miss a perfectly good wine night for...Jackson. And his groomsmen.

Guess there was a first time for everything. 

“I don’t have anything to wear, I was going to take an Uber back to my apartment after this,” he argued, grasping at any sort of excuse. 

“What you're wearing looks just fine,” Summer smiled sweetly, glass hovering just below her lips. 

Louis knew he was already dressed—and looking rather good—for a night out. Hair in a slight quiff, a light blue button up with a black jean jacket, and black jeans he changed into after dinner. The outfit was perfectly fine—great even. 

That being said, he still didn’t appreciate them kicking him out. 

“I don’t like—” 

“Louis,” Ada interrupted, putting down the bottle and walking over to him. He sat up straight, waiting for her to reach him and when she did, she put both of her hands on his shoulders. “You will be fine, it’s just one night.” 

“You say this like we’re not going to be with them for the entirety of tomorrow,” he said wryly, officially accepting that there was no way he would be getting out of this. 

“To be fair, after tomorrow Ada is going to be with them for the rest of her life, and since you are _in_ her life...they will also be there for the rest of _your_ life,” Summer said slowly, her hands moving back and forth as she tried to figure out what she explained. 

The two of them stared at her with blank expressions. After a minute, she shrugged and took another sip of her wine. She had a valid point, but the alcohol was definitely setting in. 

Louis on the other hand was completely sober, and waiting for Niall and Harry.

He decided then that this was the last time he’d let Ada and Summer talk him into something, because there was just no way he’d enjoy himself as much as he would here. 

But, there was also no way this could go _completely_ horrible. Right? 

“Phone’s ringing,” Summer sang, signaling toward Louis’ phone. He stared at it for a brief minute from its place next to him. On top of a throw pillow with the screen lighting up, it showed an area code he wasn’t familiar with.

So Niall probably came in from out of town. Well that was something he could talk to him about, hopefully. 

With his lip between his teeth, he grabbed the phone. There was no turning back at this point. The second he slid his finger over to accept that call, he’d be making his way downstairs for a night full of cheap beer, shitty EDM music, and sweaty club goers. 

He was very excited. Clearly.

“Hello?” he chirped, completely forgoing his earlier, much more annoyed tone. Summer snorted at his change in attitude, which he simply acknowledged with a middle finger.

“‘Ayo, Tommo!” Niall bellowed through the phone, leading Louis to wince and move it away from his ear. _Jesus_ , he was loud. “We’re outside Ada’s building. Black jeep, can’t miss it. You ready?” 

“Yep, I’ll be down in a minute,” he replied, moving to grab his keys from the coffee table. After Niall hung up, he headed to the front of the apartment where his vans were. Sliding them on with ease, he put a hand on the door to leave before turning back to the living room. 

Ada and Summer tried to hide their amused expressions from the couch, but failed miserably in doing so. He knew they were enjoying this and couldn’t wait to hear about his night in the morning. 

“Guess I’m off then,” he sighed. Ada waved him a goodbye and he turned his attention to Summer, pointing directly at her. “I’ve heard about your tendency to sleep through alarms, try not to be late for the wedding, eh?” 

“If there’s anyone here who needs to be worried about oversleeping, _it’s_ _you_ ,” she replied smoothly. “I’ve heard all about your hangovers.” 

Touché.

With a final goodbye, Louis left the apartment. The elevator ride down was quick, only three floors separated him from the lobby. He tapped his foot to the beat of _Smooth Criminal_ , humming the lyrics he could remember off the top of his head.

In the minute he spent in the elevator, he urged for something to happen so he could just head back upstairs and snatch the Pinot Noir from Ada’s hands. 

A freak storm, a power outage; he wasn’t picky about what it could be.

When the elevator opened, he made his way through the lobby. He shoved his hands into his jean jacket pockets, knowing that even though it was technically only autumn, it was going to feel like winter fairly quickly.

Waving a goodbye to Benjamin at the front desk, he pushed the front doors open to the building. He immediately felt the chilly breeze of a September night in Manhattan. It wasn’t quiet by any means, it never was in the middle of the city, but the low buzz of the subway below him and the sound of tires rolling on the cemented roads brought a sense of serenity. 

He loved it here. 

After a brief look around the streets in front of him, he spotted the black Jeep. It was still running, headlights shining far into the distance. From his place near the entrance of the apartment complex, he heard the low beat of the song playing inside of it. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

He strode up to the car at a brisk pace. It wasn’t too cold outside, but he was still looking forward to the car hopefully blasting some warmth into his hands. As he approached it, the window to the passenger seat rolled down to reveal Niall Horan, brown hair pushed back into a slightly messier quiff than Louis’. 

“Mate! Glad you could make it,” he greeted, motioning for Louis to get in the backseat. Louis threw him a tight smile before pulling his door open and entering the car.

The AC was blasting. 

It was significantly colder in the car than it was outside, which okay, _that’s fine._ Really. It was only September after all, Louis couldn’t expect everyone to feel the same way that he did about heating systems (in which they were absolutely necessary _at all times_ , except during a heat wave). 

Everything was fine so far. 

Once he got situated in his seat and put his seatbelt on, he took a minute to greet Niall properly. “Nice to see you again, bro,” he said, clasping a hand with Niall’s. 

“Likewise, it’s gonna be a good time tonight. Jackson’s going all out,” he smirked. Louis hoped that was a good thing. 

Wary of a night out? Damn, he was getting old. 

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, hoping there was no hesitation in his voice. Niall flashed him a grin before turning to who was driving the car, someone he had completely neglected to acknowledge. 

In Louis’ defense, Harry was being extremely quiet. 

Louis didn’t hear him say a single word at the rehearsal dinner. Sure, he saw him talking to other people in the group and family members, but he hadn’t heard his voice at all. He didn’t make a toast like Louis had.

“Hi, I don’t think we met properly at dinner. I’m Louis Tomlinson,” he said politely, holding his hand out. 

Harry turned around to examine Louis, raising an eyebrow at his formal greeting. Louis held back a wince at his professionalism. He was used to being sophisticated when first meeting people, his agent told him his business side should always be _on, on, on,_ in case he met someone important.

Which occurred more than he thought it would. Apparently, that’s what happens after you have a successful first novel. 

“Harry Styles, nice to meet you,” he responded, grabbing Louis’ hand with a firm hold.

Louis made two observations here. 

The first being that Harry’s voice is quite deep and smooth; he also talked rather slow. It reminded Louis of honey. 

The second was his hand completely engulfed Louis’, and when he squeezed it, Louis had to use all his willpower not to wince. He was clearly strong. Which...Louis didn’t entirely mind knowing. 

Alright then. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way, ready to head out Haz?” Niall continued after they let go of each other’s hands. Louis had to physically turn his body to face Niall, because...well, Harry’s eyes were just _so green_. Even in the dim light of the car’s stereo, he could tell. 

Louis had nice eyes, and was fully aware of it. Light blue with specks of grey and green, he was complimented on them more times than he could count (he’s not narcissistic, but he isn’t blind either). Harry’s are quite pretty as well though, emerald green with specks of blue in them. 

With one final glance at Louis, Harry turned to Niall and threw him a small smile. “Yep, we’re about fifteen minutes from the club.” 

Louis nodded at that information and watched the two of them interact, they seemed like they knew each other pretty well. When Harry put the car in drive and pulled onto the road, Niall kicked his feet up onto the dashboard, much to Harry’s dismay. 

“So, how do you two know each other?” Louis asked into the silent car. They had turned down the music when he hopped in, and he wasn’t about to sit in silence for the next fifteen minutes. 

“Jackson’s my cousin, met Harry earlier this week when I came in from Los Angeles,” Niall explained. 

“You’re from L.A.? Ada’s maid of honor’s from there too. She works at a PR agency,” Louis added, he’ll have to mention that to Summer later. 

“Oh, that’s sick! I work mostly in music, audio engineering in a studio and all that,” Niall babbled, fully turning to Louis to talk about his job. He definitely seems to love it, Louis liked that. 

“I’ll be sure to introduce you two properly tomorrow, maybe you can help each other out over there. I think she manages some artists.” Louis smiled when Niall offered him a fist bump in return. This wasn’t turning out to be so bad after all. “What do you do, Harry?” 

“I own a bakery over in Brooklyn,” he replied, looking at Louis through the rearview mirror. “I actually baked and decorated the cake for the wedding tomorrow.” 

“Did you now?” Louis’ interest peaked. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious, what’s the bakery called?” If there’s one thing he loved more than his Cheetos (which he regretfully left with Summer and Ada), it was a good cake.

“Sweet Creations.” 

Louis pursed his lips, trying to make a connection with the name. “Hm, don’t think I’ve heard of it. I go to a lot of bakeries with my roommate and—” He saw Harry’s eyes slightly narrow at his words, and it’s only then that he realized just how terrible that sounded. His eyes widened, “I’m sure it’s great though!” he added quickly. “I’ll be sure to visit it sometime.” 

Harry replied with a curt nod, not giving Louis much more to work with. And, yeah, Louis really needed to think before he spoke. 

“So Louis,” Niall drawled out once the conversation died, “what do you do? I know Ada works in publishing.” 

Louis nodded, a smile growing on his face. “I’m a full-time author, but I help out at Penguin Random House sometimes. I look through manuscripts and edit whenever I’m at the office.” 

“That’s awesome! Any books—”

“What do you mean by author?” Harry interrupted.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, anyone can say they’re an author. Are you _published?_ ” 

That made Louis narrow _his_ eyes slightly, it’s a question he hated being asked. “Well, an author is an author regardless of if they’re published or not. But to answer your question, yes, I have a novel out right now actually.” 

“What’s it called?” 

Damn, he asked a lot of questions. 

“The Church of Burnt Romances,” Louis said, but it came out rather tight. This is usually where he’d subtly add that it recently became a New York Times Bestseller, but he wanted to gage Harry’s reaction first. 

“Hm, never heard of it. I read a lot, so it’s strange no one I know has mentioned it by now.”

Louis stared at him. _Okay,_ so that’s the route he wanted to go down? Over a simple misunderstanding? 

He clenched his jaw and flashed him a tight smile, Harry was still looking over at him through the rearview mirror. “It may not be for everyone.” 

“Wait a second, the book about the closeted businessman? Who falls in love with the CEO of the U.K. branch of their company? You wrote that?!” Niall beamed when Louis nodded. “That’s wicked! I loved it, and I’ve heard nothing but great things about it out in Cali.” 

He decided then that he really liked Niall.

“Thank you for that, honestly. It really means a lot,” he gushed, purposefully ignoring the scoff from Harry. What the hell was his problem? 

“I hope there’s a sequel coming soon, I definitely want to know what he tells his wife about the _mysterious_ trip to London,” Niall added. Louis goes warm at his genuine interest in his book. 

“There may be one in the works,” he winked. Niall cheered before turning back to Harry, who was gripping the wheel rather tightly.

“How far are we?” Louis questioned, trying to gage if Harry disliked him or if he was just having a bad night. 

He glanced at Louis for a brief second before making a right turn, “We’re here.”

Alright then. 

Once Harry parked the car, the three of them hopped out quickly. Louis breathed a sigh of relief at the slightly warmer New York air, which he really never thought he’d say. 

Harry’s subarctic car changed his mind rather quickly. 

The three of them easily bypassed the line and guards at the entrance, Jackson told them that things would be all set by the time they got there. Louis was relieved, not really wanting to stand in line for a club he wasn’t looking forward to in the first place. 

Once they were inside and led to their booth, they spotted the groom with a pint in one hand and his phone in the other. He was typing something quickly, his thumb doing overtime since he was only using one hand. 

Niall smacked the table to signal their presence, and he immediately looked up with wide eyes, pocketing the phone without a second glance. 

If Niall and Harry found that to be as odd as Louis did, they didn’t show it. 

“Fellas!” Jackson slurred, raising his hands into the air. Louis didn’t know what made him wince more, his use of the word ‘fellas’ or how his breath already wreaked of cheap vodka. “Took you two long enough to get here,” he said, clasping a hand on both Niall and Harry’s shoulders, they both smiled in response. When his eyes landed on Louis, his smile slightly faltered, but he didn’t think Louis noticed. 

Louis did in fact, notice.

“And Louis! So glad you could make it, man.” 

“Likewise,” he replied, going in for a brief handshake. They didn’t really speak much, only ever hanging out when Ada was present, and they didn’t talk to each other much then either.

They just have...different interests. Louis didn’t mind it, honestly. He loves hearing about what other people are passionate about and what makes them tick. It’s just that he also likes when that energy is reciprocated to his own interests. 

That doesn’t happen with Jackson. He liked himself quite...a lot. 

“Well don’t just stand there, come sit down!” Jackson motioned for the three of them to enter the booth. When they’re all seated, Louis takes a look around the club. There’s nothing special about it, it was as crowded as it should be on a Friday night. “So, who’s got the first round?” 

“I'll grab them, I’m staying sober. Beer alright?” Harry asked, moving to stand up. 

Niall and Jackson nodded and before Louis could even ask for something different (he really needed something stronger than beer if he was going to make it through the night), Harry was already making his way to the bar. 

Louis was starting to think Harry wasn’t too fond of him. 

Once he was out of his line of vision, he turned to Niall and Jackson. They were already deep into a conversation about last night’s baseball game between the Dodgers and Yankees. 

After a minute of trying to catch up on what part of the game they were recapping (was it the fifth inning? Or the sixth? How many innings _even were there?_ ), he decided to go grab his drink himself. He didn’t want to nurse a beer until someone went and got the next round. 

“I’ll be right back,” he announced, but neither man paid him any attention. He nodded to himself before getting up and following the same path Harry had taken a few minutes earlier. 

The club was dark and humid, a thin layer of smoke hovering above the crowds. After getting shoved for a few feet and jabbing his elbow into some unlucky dancers to get through, Louis finally made it to the bar. He spotted Harry almost immediately, slouched over the counter and tapping his fingers along to the beat of the Steve Aoki song blasting through the speakers. He was sipping on a club soda.

Louis tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. Caught off guard, Harry jumped at the contact and knocked over his drink in the process. 

“Oops,” he said, frantically grabbing nearby napkins to clean the wet counter. When he turned to find Louis standing behind him, his face went blank. 

“Hi, sorry about that,” Louis shrugged sheepishly. 

“Yeah, hi,” Harry grumbled, passing his now empty glass to the bartender with an apologetic look. “What are you doing here? I said I’d grab the first round.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Louis began. “I don’t really want beer, so I thought I’d just grab my drink myself.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything when I asked if beer was okay?” 

“You weren’t looking in my direction.”

“Well why didn’t you say something to get my attention?”

Louis blinked. “You left before I could say anything,” he tried to keep the edge out of his voice. 

“Well, sorry about that then,” Harry mumbled back, he tried to hide an eye roll (and failed). “They’re backed up, so it may be a while.”

Great. “No worries,” Louis chirped before plopping down on the seat next to him, he ignored Harry’s wince and did a one-over of the club. It was getting more crowded. 

Once he waved over the bartender and ordered his martini, he turned his attention back to the curly-haired man next to him. “So, part of me feels like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“You don’t say,” Harry said under his breath. 

Louis ignored him. “So since we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next day, can we start over?” 

“Start over?” 

“...Yes?”

He really didn’t want to be on anyone’s bad side, especially Harry’s for that matter. They would both be giving toasts at the reception tomorrow, meaning they’d be at the same table. Meaning they’d be expected to speak to one another. And be civil. There was no need to bring any of this passive aggressiveness to the wedding. 

After a minute of silence and a calculated look, Harry shrugged. “Sure, by all means.” 

“Great,” Louis smiled, happy they could start to get to know each other for real this time. “So, excited for the wedding?” 

For the first time all night, he saw a genuine smile cover Harry’s face. 

“Of course, I am,” he beamed, the dimple on his left cheek deepened. “Weddings are so lovely, and I’m sure Ada is going to look beautiful. Jackson seems rather excited for it. His life is finally starting,” he nearly screamed, but it still didn’t seem quite as loud at the crowded bar. Louis winced at the last part of his spiel and Harry noticed. “What, are you not excited?” 

Louis shook his head. “‘Course I am, I’m super happy for Ada. ‘M just not much of a fan of weddings,” he chuckled. “Or what they stand for.” 

“What they stand for?” Harry repeated with his head tilted, unsure of what Louis was referring to. 

“Like you said. His life _‘finally starting’?”_ Louis motioned air quotes around Harry’s words. “Just because they’re getting married? What about the last twenty-seven years, has he just been going through motions?” 

“It’s just a saying, I didn’t mean for it to be taken completely literal,” Harry deadpanned. “I think it’s rather sweet, they love each other and are starting a new chapter of their lives.” 

Louis snorted and Harry huffed out a breath, clearly growing impatient with him. “What?” he snapped. 

“Nothing,” Louis said. “I just don’t see it that way, is all.” 

“You don’t see weddings as a place to share love for the couple and for one another?” 

“I mean I do see that in a sense, yeah,” Louis nodded. “But do I think they should make a promise _that large_ in front of a bunch of people? No, not really. Not when fifty percent of marriages end up in divorce, custody battles, and financial burdens. Yeah, no I don’t think so,” he ended with a bitter laugh and a shaking of his head. 

Harry just stared at him and for a moment, Louis didn’t think he had heard him over the music. “You seriously don’t like weddings? Or marriage?”

“I have nothing against marriage, will probably get married myself one day,” Louis shrugged. “And I like weddings to an extent. I _am_ actually happy to be a part of Ada and Jackson’s, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out.” 

Harry looked at him with a curious glint in his eye. He was playing with a large gold ring on his middle finger, his nails were painted black. It was a nice color on him. “So you like weddings, but hate what they stand for?”

“I guess? I think people do it more for show than anything.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “But why? Why do you see it that way?”

“Have you ever considered becoming a journalist? You sure like to ask a lot of questions,” Louis commented wryly. He was suddenly jolted forward and grabbed onto the counter with both hands to steady himself. His eyes landed on two girls who had pushed into him to make their way to the bartender. 

Right. They were actually having this conversation at _a club._ Where were their drinks again?

“I’m just curious,” Harry defended. 

“Well, I don’t have much of an explanation,” he said simply. “I just think if two people are truly in it to spend the rest of their lives together; that’s between them and themselves only.”

“Speaking from personal experience, are we?”

“As if I’ve ever been engaged,” Louis scoffed. To one of his ex boyfriends? _No thanks_. “The men I’ve dated haven’t exactly been keepers.”

“Oh,” Harry drawled out, “so you’re one of _those_ people then.” He turned to face the bar with an incredulous look. 

Louis whipped his head in his direction. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Harry shrugged. “Oh nothing, the last person you were with really must have done a number on ya, huh? Warped your entire outlook on serious relationships?”

Louis’ not one to be caught off guard, no, he’s usually the one doing it. Whether it be through pranks, random outbursts, or carefully placed insults.

Needless to say, Harry’s comment did in fact, _catch him fucking off guard._

“I’m sorry, _what the fuck_ did you just say?” he sputtered, mouth agape. 

“Exactly what you think I said,” Harry replied smoothly, pretending to be interested in the napkin in front of him. He focused his attention on folding the corners toward the center, not even sparing Louis a glance. 

“I’m _perfectly_ content with being single, thank you very much,” he snapped. “And even if I was unhappy, I wouldn’t take it out on other people!” 

“You just did,” he pointed his now rolled-up napkin at Louis.

“You’re not in a relationship!” 

“And how would you know that?” Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Louis paused.

 _“Are you?”_

“Well no, but—”

“Ha! So your point is invalid!” 

“Are you implying my other point _is_ valid?” 

“What? No! Nothing you said is valid!” Louis shrieked, getting up from his seat. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. No, this wasn’t even a conversation, he was being _interrogated._ Insulted!

Louis has had his fair share of odd conversations at bars over the years, but a psycho-analysis had not been one of them.

“The way you’re getting defensive says otherwise.” 

Louis huffed out a breath, still gripping to the counter as people moved behind him. He knew he didn’t get off on the right foot with Harry, but hadn’t they moved past this? “Listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t know shit about your fucking bakery, but that doesn’t mean—” 

“Who said anything about my fucking bakery?” Harry interrupted, growing more agitated.

“You’re obviously still bitter about what I said in the car, you’re not fooling anyone,” he scoffed. “Who would’ve thought a hipster could be this petty.”

_“Who are you calling petty?!”_

“You!” Louis screamed, waving his hands around. He took a step toward Harry, “You’re holding a grudge!”

“I don’t even know you, how the fuck can I hold a grudge?” Harry fumed, also taking a step forward. “And a hipster, really?”

“Well, you _do_ live in Brooklyn,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows as he turned to look down at the counter. This caused Harry to run a hand down his face in frustration. 

“I can’t believe how judgmental—” 

_“Judgmental?!”_

They hear someone clear their throat on the other side of the bar, causing both of their heads to whip in that direction. “Sorry to interrupt this...uhm, lover’s quarrel.” Louis raised an eyebrow at the bartender. “Here are your three beers,” he said, motioning to Harry. 

Harry threw him a grateful smile before taking a step away from Louis and picking up the beers. It wasn’t until he was a foot away from him that Louis realized they had only been a few inches apart during their argument. 

“Sorry to cut this short, but I’m going to go back to the booth. Gonna enjoy the night with Jackson before he starts the rest of his life with his bride-to-be,” he said with faux sweetness. 

It made Louis’ blood boil. 

“Of course, I wouldn't want you to keep him waiting,” he replied just as kindly, he felt his mouth was about to split open with how wide he was smiling. “Make sure you put on some chapstick before kissing his ass.” 

He watched Harry’s jaw clench and felt a tinge of satisfaction from it. “See you back at the table,” was all he replied with.

“Guess I will,” he said. “And I’m not fucking judgmental!” he added when he saw Harry turn around to walk through the crowd.

“Whatever you say!” 

Louis shook his head in disbelief and sat back down at the bar. The bartender brought out his martini a few minutes later and he immediately chugged it so he could order another one. 

Hangover, be damned.

Sober Louis couldn’t deal with the arrogant, posh, douchebag that was Harry Styles, but maybe drunk Louis could. 

Within the hour, he found out that was not the case either.

⸻

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Louis respectfully disagrees. 

He tries not to pout at Summer’s reaction, but he does anyway. Harry turns to her with his face scrunched up, also surprised that she doesn’t find their story jarring. 

“It’s not,” they say simultaneously, eyeing each other briefly at their synchronization.

His reasons to dislike Harry are valid, regardless of what his friends say. And _for once_ , he’s glad the other man agrees.

“It is,” Ada adds with a light tone. And honestly, Louis doesn’t appreciate his friends—his _confidants—_ disagreeing with his assessment of Harry’s douchery (is that even a word? It is now, at least in Louis’ dictionary). 

“No, it really isn’t,” Louis retorts dryly. “I’m not going to be amicable with someone who thinks insulting me is a fun icebreaker.”

“I wasn’t insulting you,” Harry says coolly, tapping the knuckle of his pointer finger against the window to the beat of the music. “It’s just always upsetting to see people so unhappy with their own love lives that they project it onto others.”

Louis’ grip tightens on the steering wheel, and if he tells himself it’s because they’re finally getting into the meat of NYC traffic and _not_ because Harry’s comments are getting to him, then so be it. 

“Yeah, well it’s sad to see people living vicariously through others relationships because they’ve failed to successfully land one of their own.”

“Weren’t you the one who talked about terrible ex boyfriends?” 

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Summer interrupts before Louis can bite back, she eyes the two men with an incredulous look. “We get it, no more putting you two within five feet of each other after this.” He shifts in his seat, growing increasingly tense at the atmosphere in the car.

Ada still isn’t speaking, Summer is failing miserably at keeping everyone calm (it isn’t her forté, if you ask Louis), and Harry is throwing him a glare that could easily put him at the bottom of the Hudson.

He’d probably see Harry there, given that he’s looking at him with the same intensity. 

Louis isn’t usually so...harsh with his comebacks, or with people in general really. Well, he can be, but it’s all in good fun. Mostly. 

Harry Styles takes the fun out of it. 

If he’s going to disagree with Louis on almost _everything_ they’ve ever spoken about, fine. But he isn’t going to insult him and get away with it. 

That just won’t do. 

And Louis is never mean-spirited on _purpose..._ but he’s damn good at fighting fire with fire when he has to. 

“So,” Summer starts after a few moments of silence. She grips onto the safety handle at the top of the car, along with Ada and Harry. Everyone stopped their bickering once Louis got off the bridge, knowing he’ll have to focus on the cars swerving in and out of his lane. It’d be nice if they got through the day without a car accident. It’s the _least_ the world can do for them. “How far are we?” 

They’re still another fifteen minutes from Ada’s apartment, and that’s without the traffic they were sure to hit once they passed Lower Manhattan. It’s frustrating Louis, he’s tired of driving. And he _hates it._

Harry’s car is much bigger than his Toyota Prius, and he didn’t have enough time to properly adjust the seat before they left. It’s making him a little nervous to say the least. 

He didn’t realize _just_ how long Harry’s legs were. 

He’s got a smaller car for a reason, alright? 

“We’re about fifteen minutes from—”

A marimba ringtone makes everyone freeze. 

It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, considering the bride and (arguably) the three most important members from the wedding party are currently MIA; but it does catch them quite off guard. 

Louis looks through the rearview mirror to see Summer and Ada rummaging through their clutches for their phones. They exchange nervous glances, and when Summer whips out her phone she lets out a sigh in relief.

“Aha! It’s not mine,” she sings, showing her locked phone to the car. 

Louis focuses his attention on Ada, who’s staring at her ringing phone with wide eyes. “It’s my mom.” 

“Good luck with that one,” he mutters, which results in a slap on the head from Summer. He swats her away and focuses his attention on the road. 

“You should probably answer it,” Harry points out (rather obviously), but there’s an edge to his voice. Yeah, Louis wouldn’t want to be answering Ada’s mom right now either.

She’s rather...intimidating. And also _very_ excited for the wedding. 

Ada looks between the three of them frantically, “I can’t answer it, she’s going to kill me. You answer it!” She tosses the phone to Summer, who catches it with wide eyes.

“I am _not_ explaining to your mother that you ran from your wedding!” she screeches, tossing the phone back to Ada.

“This was your idea!” 

“It was not!”

“Wasn’t it though?” 

Summer ignores Harry’s comment. “You just needed me to agree with you, you’ve had this planned all along!” Ada tosses it to her again, but Summer doesn’t catch it this time. It lands on the floor with a thud, the sound of Ada’s ringtone now coming from beneath Louis’ seat. “That is your _mother!”_

“I don’t want her to yell at me!” 

“That seems a bit inevitable, don’t you think?” 

“Shut it, curly,” Ada warns. Harry raises his hands up innocently before turning to face the front. He throws Louis an amused look, which he returns, and they both chuckle at their silent exchange.

Louis tries not to overthink it. 

The phone stops ringing and Ada sighs in relief. Louis counts the time it takes for it to start going again.

Six seconds. 

Her mother is persistent.

“Just answer and get it over with,” Louis says when she lets out a whine and simply stares at its place on the floor. “She’s not going to stop.” 

She lets out a grunt before picking the phone up, eyes darting between the three of them. Louis can sense she was anxious, she’s calling off an entire wedding after all. After some encouraging nods, she takes a deep breath and holds the phone up to her ear.

They wait nervously, Louis trying to simultaneously keep his eyes on the road and glance through the rearview mirror every three seconds. Ada’s eyes are pinched shut, waiting for her mother to say something. 

“Hello?” she squeaks. 

Almost immediately, she moves the phone away from her ear and the four of them jump at how _loud_ the voice is speaking through the phone. Well, _yelling_ , is the more appropriate term. It’s muffled, but Louis can practically hear her mother’s panic from the vineyard.

“This is not gonna end well,” Harry whispers, which prompts Summer to kick the back of his seat. He winces at the jolt of his chair, but doesn’t turn around. Louis once again focuses on Ada, who lifts the phone back to her ear.

“Mom— _mom,_ listen to me,” Ada tries, wincing occasionally when her mother speaks over her. “Mom!” 

She pauses for a minute before taking a breath. “I’m not at the vineyard anymore.” 

It’s silent for a minute, like, _a literal minute._ Ada looks down at her phone with furrowed eyebrows to make sure the call hasn't ended before putting it back up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Put it on speaker,” Louis whispers, not wanting to miss anything. Ada does, but puts a finger to her lips. He pouts. 

She adjusts herself closer to the center of the car, putting the phone in the middle of the four of them. “Mom? Are you there?” 

They hear her breathing before they hear her speak. And when they do, again, everyone jumps. 

_“Adeline Montgomery, what the hell do you mean you’re not at the vineyard?!”_ she shrieks. 

“Mom—” 

“The ceremony starts in thirty minutes!” Right, Louis forgot about that. It’s coming around to be that time, huh? “Why would you leave? You need to get back here _now!”_

“I—” 

“Please tell me you’re on your way back now, traffic is going to be a nightmare,” her mother pleads, but it sounds more like a demand. Ada swallows and stares at her phone, prompting all of them to look at her expectedly. 

“I...forgot my vows at home,” she says slowly. Louis nearly slams on the brakes. 

“Your vows?” 

“Your _vows?!”_ Harry whispers harshly, turning back to look at Ada incredulously. All three of their jaws are practically on the floor, Ada only supplying them with a shrug.

“What are you _doing?”_ Louis tries to keep his voice down, but is failing. Ada just mouths an ‘I don’t know!’ and goes to bite her nails. 

They are absolutely fucked.

“Yes...” she says, eyes darting around the car and trying to avoid making eye contact with the three people practically burning _holes_ into her. “My vows...I don’t have them memorized entirely, I don’t want to look like a fool at the altar.” 

“Oh,” her mother says, lowering her voice a tad. Louis would be relieved at that if it wasn’t for Ada _lying._ “Did Louis, Summer, _and_ Jackson’s best man go with you? They’re all missing as well.” 

Ada winces. “Yeah, Louis didn’t have his car. Harry overheard us and offered to drive.” 

“Bit odd they all went with you,” she says, mostly to herself. “But that was nice of him, he seems very sweet.”

Harry grins cheekily at that, Louis scoffs. 

“Yep, totally a charmer. Well mom—”

“When will you all be back? Should I tell everyone the ceremony will be starting a little late?” The question makes Louis’ shoulders tense. “People are getting antsy.” 

When he slows down at a red light on fifth avenue, he turns to find everyone already exchanging wary glances. Because what do you answer when you don’t plan on going back? 

“Uhm,” Ada falters. “We may be a couple minutes late.” 

Understatement of the century. 

“Right, well I’ll let them know,” her mother says. “Jackson will be upset, but you were bound to have your first fight as newlyweds eventually!” 

Needless to say, the joke doesn’t reach the car. 

“Funny,” Ada responds without a hint of humor. “Well, we’re coming up on the apartment—”

“Hurry back, sweetie! See you soon.” At that, her mother hangs up the phone and everyone stares at it in silence. They only start to move when the car behind them honks. 

Louis quickly turns around and gets back to driving, and a few minutes pass before someone speaks again.

“Ada?” Summer says.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think is going to happen when we _aren’t_ there a couple minutes late?” 

“Not sure. I was kind of hoping you guys had ideas.” 

If Louis could jump out of the car right now, he would. Actually, he would have ten minutes ago. 

“You could have told the truth,” he says with a tight smile. “You know, so they would’ve broken the news to the guests, and I don’t know, _the groom.”_

“I panicked?” 

“Understatement,” Harry breathes out. 

“Well, it’s not like you all were quick to correct me!” 

“And get into it with your mother? No thanks,” Summer mutters, slouching into her seat with her arms crossed. 

“It’ll be fine,” Ada says, slightly hysterical. “This is all going to be fine.” 

No one answers. 

Louis turns up the stereo; desperate for _any_ type of sound. He tries not to have an opinion when it comes to how his friends handle things (again, no room to judge or meddle or whatever), but it’s quite difficult in this situation. 

He doesn’t see this ending well for any of them, to be quite honest.

And as much as he hates to admit it, Harry was right. He _is_ a willing accomplice, and he feels slightly guilty at the adrenaline he’s getting from driving the car. He hopes it'll be a funny story to tell in the future. 

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen.” Summer sits up straight and clasps her hands together. “Louis, how far are we from your place?” 

“We’re about ten minutes from _Ada’s_ ,” he corrects. 

“Ada’s?”

“Yes?” 

“We can’t go to mine, that’s the first place they’ll look!” Ada screams, suddenly back on high-alert. Louis locks eyes with her through the mirror, shocked. 

“What, are you on the run now? Is this fucking _Money Heist?”_

“Seems more like a bad Hallmark movie if you ask me,” Harry mumbles. 

“I don’t want anyone to barge into my apartment and interrogate me when they find out.” She runs a hand through her hair and throws her phone onto the middle seat. “I barely know what I’ve gotten myself into, I won’t be able to answer to a bunch of angry family members, let alone _Jackson.”_

“You’re going to have to face them eventually, you know that right?” he points out with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Well, the same thing will happen if you go to mine.”

She grows quiet at that, knowing he’s right. If Ada wasn’t at her own apartment, chances were she was at Louis and Zayn’s. 

At the thought of his roommate, he feels a twinge of jealousy. How convenient it was that he had a business trip this weekend, _of all weekends._

“We could go to mine,” Harry suggests. “They won’t find you there, doubt Jackson would even think to look there.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Your place?” 

“Yeah, it’s in Brooklyn.” 

Oh, _of course_ it is. Works _and_ lives there, probably does fucking yoga too. Harry Styles lives and breathes _Brooklyn_ , and Louis is not surprised by it at all.

“Hipster,” he mumbles, masking it with a cough. Harry bites the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t say a single word in retaliation. 

...Brooklyn though. _Brooklyn,_ where the fucking vineyard is, which is now _far_ behind them. 

Meaning more driving, meaning more _difficulty_ driving Harry’s car. Louis doesn’t know what he did to deserve all of this, but he’s going to start being a nicer person; make some better decisions. Karma is obviously catching up with him in some dark, twisted way.

That will _not_ be starting with Harry however.

He runs a hand down his face and lets out a humorless laugh. “Brooklyn? You couldn’t have said something before we went over the bridge? Before we got deep into Manhattan?” 

“We _just_ started talking about this,” Harry defends. “I figured we were going to one of your places, I didn’t think it’d be an issue. Now that it is though, I’m offering.” 

“Yeah, well a bit too fucking late.” He turns into a nearby alleyway to start the journey back. This will add another twenty minutes to the drive. Perfect.

“‘ _Thank you Harry, that is so generous of you_ ,’ is the correct response to this, if you ask me,” Harry snaps, a tight smile on his face when he faces Louis. 

“Generosity killed the cat.” 

Harry blinks, but doesn't respond. 

At his silence, Louis glances at him, trying to trigger some sort of response, but he doesn’t say a word. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. 

Louis lifted his fingers off the wheel, but kept his palms on it, “What?” 

“It’s curiosity.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s curiosity. _Curiosity_ killed the cat, not generosity,” Harry explains slowly, like he’s talking to a child.

Louis comes to a stop at the end of the alleyway and stares at him incredulously. “My point _is,_ it would’ve been nice if we decided this while we were still _in_ Brooklyn.” 

“If you have any better ideas—” 

“That works perfectly, Harry,” Summer interrupts. Louis is getting really tired at her intrusion of his and Harry’s conversations (he doesn’t care if it’s necessary, _he_ needs to get the last word in, alright?). “Thank you, really. I know you didn’t ask to be dragged into this.” She flashes him a small smile and he nods. 

Louis pointedly ignores the disappointed glare Summer throws him by checking for passing cars. 

“Put in your address.” He tosses his phone to Harry, which he fails to catch. Louis bites his tongue to keep from smiling when it lands on his crotch. 

“Sure,” Harry winces, voice slightly higher. He grabs the phone with one hand and shifts uncomfortably. Louis would apologize, but he’s had it coming. He’s had it a long time coming. 

When Harry reconnects the phone back to the console, Louis turns out of the alleyway and back to the main road. Twenty-five minutes to his apartment. Great. 

Summer leans forward and places a hand on each of their seats. She takes a look at the ETA before turning to the two of them. “So when you guys get back to the vineyard, it should be around 1:15? That’s probably when they’d be expecting us anyway.” 

Harry turns his full body to her and Louis remains silent.

“What do you mean when _we_ head back to the vineyard?” Harry asks with narrowed eyes. 

At that moment, Ada leans forward too. “Well, _I_ certainly can’t go back to explain myself. You two need to tell Jackson what’s happened.” 

Louis _really_ thought things couldn’t get any worse. But he was so wrong, and so, _so_ naive. 

He glances briefly at Harry, who is already looking at him warily. 

They’re on the same page then.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Not a chance.” 

“You have to!” Summer argues. “We can’t have them waiting forever. Besides, the vineyard doubles the fee for overtime.” 

“What—but why do any of us have to go back?!” Louis whines, his voice going a couple octaves higher. 

His eyes widens when his phone’s GPS starts buzzing frantically, and he makes an abrupt right turn, barely missing the curb. He mutters an apology at the screams heard around the car, pointedly ignoring Harry’s stare and both of his hands gripping the safety handle.

“I’d appreciate it if you _wouldn’t_ crash my car.” 

Louis smiles sheepishly before turning his attention back to Ada and Summer. “I am _not_ going back and fixing this for you. I have no part in this!” 

“You’re driving the getaway car,” Summer says flatly. 

_“Willing accomplice,”_ Harry sings.

Louis huffs out in annoyance, but Harry sighs and turns around. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with him.” 

“Don’t sound too surprised.” 

Harry ignores him and continues. “There’s no way—” 

“Harry, aren’t you the best man?” 

“Yeah, but—” 

“Then it’s your job to handle these types of things,” Summer reasons. Ada nods in agreement. 

“I’m not sure there’s a handbook, and even if there was, I don’t think this type of situation would be in it,” he says, voice void of any emotion. 

“Eh, who cares about logistics.” She waves him off and Harry rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff and seemingly giving up.

That doesn’t mean Louis is about to. 

“With that logic, shouldn’t you be going then?” he asks Summer with a raised eyebrow. They’re finally back on the bridge, and Louis _would_ be relieved if Harry’s apartment is where they’d be for the rest of the day. It isn’t though. “Since you’re, you know, the maid of honor?” 

“Who would stay with Ada if I went?” 

“Good question.” He nods with pursed lips. “Here’s a crazy thought, I could?” 

“As the maid of honor, I think my duties to stay with the runaway bride trumps my duty of damage control. Because of this, that responsibility falls on my subordinate. That’s you, Louis.” 

“Yes _, of course,_ Madam President.” Louis rolls his eyes at her formality. “Makes perfect sense.” 

“Could I get a copy of this apparent handbook?” Harry asks, rubbing his temples. Louis wishes he could do that, but the bridge is an absolute _nightmare_ right now. The traffic they seemed to have missed their first time around, has caught up with them. It’s the lunch rush, and it’s just _perfect._ “I feel like I need a way to defend myself here.”

“Not available for purchase, sorry.” 

“So what? We have to go and deal with a bunch of angry guests and family members while you two stay at Harry’s?” Louis questions with an exasperated sigh. Ada’s mom is going to kill him. So would her sister, and probably—most likely—Jackson. 

A best man and a bridesman walk into a wedding, and ruin it with a single sentence. No one can convince Louis at this point that he isn’t starring in Hallmark’s _Summer Nights_. 

The river below them is looking more appealing by the second. 

“No, you’re going to have to deal with an angry _Jackson_ ,” Ada clarifies, finally breaking her silence. “We appreciate your services greatly, gentlemen.” 

“What happened to not having me and Harry be within five feet of each other? Now you're throwing us out to the sharks together?” 

“Are you going to make this into another fight?” Harry turns to him looking exhausted, his green eyes a little dull. Louis can sympathize. 

“No,” he admits. “We have enough on our plates.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Summer cheers, ruffling his hair. He tries to swat her hand away, but she just pats his head again before going for Harry’s. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns, which promptly makes her back away. 

“You owe us _so_ much for this,” Louis grumbles, Harry grunts in agreement. 

“We love you?” 

“Not enough,” the two of them say simultaneously. 

“I’ll let you guys choose what you want from the registry before I send things back?” 

The two men share a look. 

“Deal.” 

⸻

A couple of close calls, everyone’s fair share of profanities, and a near rear-ending later, they’re outside of Harry’s Brooklyn apartment complex, the Roosevelt. 

“Security should be expecting you, so just give them your names at the desk. It’s apartment 4G.” 

Fancy. 

“Don’t forget to tell him how upset I am,” Ada reminds them, coincidentally with a smile. Louis and Harry simply blink in response. She and Summer had explained what exactly they were to say and do. It’s pretty clear cut, and shouldn't take them longer than five minutes. They’ll be in and out.

The girls have their doubts. 

“Yeah, you seem truly gutted.” 

“Let’s be real, it’ll hit her sooner or later,” Summer sighs. “Oh! Tell everyone my phone’s dead, I don’t want any phone calls.” 

“You’re not who they’re going to be calling,” Harry says, putting the directions to the vineyard back into Louis’ phone. Twenty more minutes. It’s 12:55. Great. 

It’s not that Louis is nervous, if anyone can stay cool under pressure, it’s him. The last hour and a half has proven that. 

It’s just that, well, he’s about to call off his best friend's _wedding._ About to send everyone home, tell them _‘just kidding, have a great weekend!’_ He’s breaking off her three year relationship, her _engagement_ , for crying out loud. 

He’s going to add this to the list of reasons why he doesn’t like weddings, and he’ll make a point to tell Harry. It’s not like he can argue against it. 

“Well, you guys should get going.” Ada pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes darting between Louis and Harry nervously. 

Sending two people who can’t go more than three minutes without fighting on a mission, what can possibly go wrong? 

When they stare back at her blankly, she opens the car door and starts to slide out. Summer follows suit, throwing the two of them innocent smiles. 

After the door shuts behind them, Harry’s eyes widen and he rolls his window down. “Wait!” 

Louis raises an eyebrow at the curly-haired man, the top half of his body practically hanging out of the window in an attempt to flag down the girls before they head inside. When they turn around, confusion etched into their faces, he waves them over. 

Hesitantly, they take a few steps back towards the car. “Yes?” 

“What happened?” 

“What?” 

“What?” Louis echoes, tilting his head at Harry’s words. 

“What did he do? What did Jackson do?” he elaborates. Realization dawns on Ada’s face and Louis purses his lips. In all of the chaos, he had completely forgotten to ask Ada _why_ she’s doing this in the first place, why she felt that _this_ was her only option. 

Summer, without an explanation either, looks at her as well. The runaway bride takes a deep breath and shrugs. 

“Ask him yourself.” 

...Alright.

That gives them absolutely nothing to work with. It’s also a bit ominous, if you ask Louis. 

Harry, who opens his mouth to ask a follow-up question, isn’t given the chance. With a final wave, Ada turns back around and heads into his apartment complex. Summer looks after her before turning back to the boys with a blank expression on her face. 

“I’ll get it out of her eventually. You two should go.” 

Louis nods and turns the keys in the ignition, the car immediately humming to life. Harry takes that as his sign to get back in his seat, slightly defeated. “Good luck!” is the final thing Summer says before she chases after Ada. 

When Louis sees the door shut behind her, he knocks his head back into his chair and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding. It’s just him and Harry now. 

And oh.

_Oh._

It’s just him and Harry. 

He glances in his direction warily only to find Harry already staring back at him. They stay like that for three seconds before Harry throws him an unimpressed look. 

“Are you just going to sit there or are we going to head back? They’re going to be expecting us soon.” 

And well, he seems absolutely _ecstatic_ to be in Louis’ presence.

Louis throws him a fake smile and puts the car in drive. “Don’t think they’re expecting us specifically, mate.” 

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Louis asks innocently, glancing at his left mirror before getting back onto the road. They start off the drive in silence, only the faint hum of a Green Day song playing through the stereo. It isn’t not loud enough for Louis to drum his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat, so he bounces his free leg to feel less awkward. 

Simply driving should be enough, but Harry’s presence makes him tense, and he doesn’t know how to act around him (he would never admit that though, absolutely not). He didn’t know how to last night, and that’s essentially part of why their friendship had ended before it even began (he would never admit _that_ either, thanks).

While Louis starts the drive back, the enigma-of-a-man in question is looking out the window, watching the streets of Brooklyn whizz past them. Louis looks at him for a moment longer than can be deemed appropriate _or_ safe, but he blames it on his curiosity.

He can’t tell how long Harry has lived in New York. Whether he dropped everything and came to the city, moved here for university, moved post-grad, or simply grew up here. He’s clearly been here a while, from owning a bakery and all. 

But the way he looks at the passing buildings and pedestrians is what Louis focuses on. The way his eyes linger on the businessmen and women in perfectly tailored suits and leather briefcases, the fashion interns fetching coffee to their anal bosses, and the tourists taking predictable photographs to post to their instagram’s later. 

It’s the way he looks with wide green eyes absorbing each and every moving image, a faint smile tugging on his lips... 

It’s the same look that Louis knows he gets during his walks back to his apartment in Manhattan. The look he gets when he decides to go around the extra three blocks down fifth avenue to see how things have changed from day to night. 

Everything new; everything moving at lightning speed and in slow motion at the same time, like you can miss nothing and everything if you even dare to blink. 

It isn’t meant for everyone, but if it was, there’s nothing you want more than to experience it for the rest of your life. 

He thinks Harry understands that.

With one more brief glance, he focuses back on the road. If he struggles to keep it completely on the cars in front of him and not on everything Harry glances at, no one would know. 

When they reach a red light a few moments later, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, still unable to adjust it exactly how he needs it. He _really_ doesn’t like Harry’s car. “I don’t know how you drive this thing.” 

“Excuse me?” Harry asks, affronted. He turns away from the window in the blink of an eye. 

“I don’t know how you drive _this.”_ He points to the steering wheel before spreading his arms wide to reference the entire Jeep. “It’s so fucking big.” 

“I think it’s an average sized car actually?” 

“Too big.” 

“No, not really.” 

Louis grunts, before jumping at the sound of the CR-V behind them honking. He immediately presses on the accelerator and Harry takes in a sharp breath when he’s jolted into the back of his seat. 

“I don’t think the car is the problem here.” 

“I respectfully disagree.” Louis flips off the Honda when it speeds past in the lane next to them, horn still echoing in the wind. “My Prius is much better.” 

Harry stares at him blankly. “You drive a Prius?” 

“Yes?” Louis answers defensively, caught off guard by Harry’s judgement. “Is that a problem?” 

“No…” 

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry trailing off. “But?” 

“You’re a New York Times _bestseller.”_ He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. “Can’t you afford something better than a Toyota Prius?” 

“It’s fuel efficient,” Louis shrugs, but once he fully registers Harry’s words he freezes. 

_Wait a second._

When they reach a light, he slowly turns to the other man with a smirk. “You read my book.” 

Harry's thumb goes rigid mid-scroll. “Hm?” 

And _oh,_ this is good. 

“You read my book!” Louis gasps, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “You fucking read it!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry rushes out, adjusting himself in the seat so he doesn’t have to look Louis directly in the eye. “You mentioned it last night.” 

“I _never_ said it was a bestseller though. I didn’t want to sound like a prick.”

“Well, you’re making up for that now.” Harry looks down at his lap with rosy cheeks, but Louis sees his dimples threatening to make an appearance. 

Louis giggles before shaking his head. His cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling, but he can’t help it. _This is gold._ “You _actually_ read my novel.” 

“I think we’ve established that.” 

“And? How was it? Did it tug at your heartstrings? Did you grab some tissues?” 

“ _Louis,”_ Harry whines, but Louis can see the smile on his face out of the corner of his eye. 

“I won’t lie, I cried writing the ending,” he continues. “God, really left you all on a cliffhanger, eh?” The light turns green and he continues the drive to Brooklyn, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel with a smirk.

“We are _not_ talking about this...but yes, you did.”

_“Aha!”_

“ _Anyway,”_ Harry grumbles, scooting down lower in his seat with his arms crossed across his chest. "I don’t even know how the hell you ended up driving _my car_ in the first place,” 

When Louis spares him a glance, he sees his full bottom lip sticking out and his brows slightly furrowed as he looks out at the traffic in front of them. And _Jesus Christ,_ he’s pouty. But, Louis will be the first to admit he’s fairly cute when he makes the sulky expression.

...No. 

_No._ Bad Louis! Bad.

He ignores the thought and swallows hard, blaming whatever just possessed his subconscious on the ~~lovely~~ _interesting_ revelation that Harry read his novel. “If it makes you feel better, I’d rather not be.” 

“Considering you’re still behind the wheel, no, it doesn’t make me feel better actually.”

“Well, I’m sorry— _shit.”_ He slams on his breaks when a car merges into his lane without their turn signal. His face scrunches up in a grimace as he watches the car behind them slam on their breaks as well, hands waving erratically at Louis. “Sorry,” he whispers, like they’ll hear him.

He turns to apologize to Harry as well, but he’s already fixing him with a pointed look.

“Are you normally this bad at driving?” 

Louis' mouth falls open. “That wasn’t even my fault!” 

“There’s a way to slow down without nearly giving me whiplash and having us rear-ended.” 

He presses his lips into a tight line. “Would you have rather I rear-ended the fucking minivan in front of us?” 

“Well no, but—” 

“Exactly. I don’t think Janet—the mom of three, about to drop her kids off with the nanny before meeting her _gals_ for happy hour—would have appreciated that.” 

His comment hangs in the air for a minute before it's intercepted with a snort from Harry, which quickly turns into a fit of giggles. Louis looks curiously at the other man, who has the back of his hand pressed to the grin on his face, green eyes crinkling. 

Louis somehow finds laughter bubbling up in his stomach as well, short bursts syncing with Harry’s in the small space of his car. 

Before the two of them know it, they’re laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing. Whether it be from Louis' comment or the absolute ridiculousness of their current situation, Louis feels lighter by the end of it.

Harry runs a hand through his hair and tries to catch his breath from his laughing fit. “Do you want to switch?” he breathes out, a small smile playing on his lips. His comment makes Louis’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he feels a flutter in his stomach.

 _Ignore. Ignore. Ignore._

“Would you want to?” he asks, a bit too hopeful.

“You do realize this _is_ my car, right?” 

Right. 

Louis nods. “I’ll find somewhere to pull over.” 

⸻

Louis can feel bile rise up his throat the second Harry pulls into the parking lot of the vineyard.

The two men stare at the building in front of them, acutely aware of the fact that right behind it, there are over a hundred people waiting to see a couple wed. 

Louis wonders if it’s too late to ask Harry to drive back to his apartment. 

“I may have already said this,” Harry starts, breaking the silence that’s been brewing between the two of them for the last five minutes, “but I _really_ don’t see this going well.” 

“You don’t say?” Louis responds dryly, continuing to stare at the space that holds his inevitable doom. He knocks his head back against his seat and lets out a groan, feeling like he’s already gone through the fucking wringer. 

Harry steps out of the car and Louis reluctantly follows. He stretches out his legs, thankful for some relief after being sat in a car for over an hour and a half. Harry himself lets out a satisfied groan as he twists his back, the occasional _pop_ being heard when he tilts sideways, using both hands on his hips for leverage. 

“God, I feel so much better now,” he breathes out, a small smile on his face as he puts his palm up to his chin to stretch out his neck. Louis hears another series of _pops_ as Harry tilts his head to the right, and then to the left.

“You should really see a chiropractor.” Louis bends over and looks into the side mirror of the Jeep to adjust his tie, which he loosened about 5 minutes into the drive to Harry’s. “Your back shouldn’t hurt so much from a ninety-minute drive.” 

“Doesn’t hurt that bad,” Harry mumbles, opening the back door to grab his suit jacket.

“You winced every time you tried to straighten up while driving,” Louis deadpans. “You also mentioned it hurting when we switched places.” 

He bites his tongue once the last word leaves his lips, hoping Harry didn’t notice just how _aware_ Louis was of every move he’d make in the car (he couldn’t help it, alright? Harry’s tall and takes up a lot of space!). If Harry realizes, he doesn’t comment on it. 

And thank God for that. 

He shrugs instead, smoothing his hands over his newly added jacket. “It isn’t like this all the time, I don’t think—” 

Louis rolls his eyes and stands back up, unable to understand Harry’s denial. “Nonsense, I’m giving you my chiropractor’s contact info after we deal with this. You’ll feel a lot better, I promise.”

Surprise flashes over Harry’s face at Louis' offer, which Louis tries not to comment on. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but his reaction proves otherwise.

“Okay, yeah. That’d be great actually. Thank you,” Harry smiles, prompting Louis to return the expression. 

“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do after subjecting you to my music choices in the car.”

Harry lets out a sudden cackle, which has Louis biting the inside of his cheek. “I for one _loved_ your rendition of _Chiquitita_ , so don’t sell yourself short.” 

Louis tries his hardest not to let a smile cover his face at Harry’s comment, still a bit embarrassed at how he reacted when the song came on shuffle (it’s a classic, alright?). But the second Harry belts out, _“Chiquitita, you and I know!”_ he admits defeat, giggling uncontrollably at his sudden outburst. 

If someone would have told him this is where he’d be at with Harry, he would have laughed in their face. 

But the thing is...the rest of their drive wasn’t terrible _._ It actually wasn’t bad _at all_ . After Louis realized some nicely placed jokes were all he needed to win Harry over (he uses the term ‘win’ very loosely), and that they both have an unexplainable love for _Mamma Mia!_ and ABBA, their conversations got a bit kinder and each minute stuck in traffic got a bit more bearable. 

They still bicker and throw insults at each other like their lives depend on it, but the malicious intent behind them seems to have disappeared (for the most part).

It lifts the weight off Louis' shoulders slightly. 

He slaps the hood of the Jeep twice before making his way over to Harry’s side of the car. The two of them look toward the vineyard’s main building with wary looks, but don’t move a muscle. 

“Ready?” Louis asks. 

“Nope.” 

“Let’s do it then.” 

Taking a hesitant step forward, Harry leads the way toward the building with Louis a few paces behind. The faint hum of a violin from the ceremony can be heard as they get closer and closer to the patio, heightening Louis’ nerves as they reach the main building. 

The only structure that stood between them and a mob of confused guests and angry family members. 

“I can’t believe we’re the ones who have to do this,” Harry groans, pulling open the large wooden door. He gestures for Louis to go through and pulls it shut behind him as they continue down the narrow hallway, each step taking them to the back door that leads them to the ceremony. 

“If it’s alright with you I’m going to take the food processor from the registry.” 

“As long as you let me have the chair hammock for my living room.” Harry swipes his thumb across his bottom lip to hide his smirk. 

Louis struggles to move his eyes away from the action, and he covertly pinches his leg. 

_Ignore. Bad Louis. Ignore._

“Fine by me,” he stammers out, averting his eyes back to their destination. 

“We are terrible people for talking about this right now.” Harry grins, completely missing Louis' internal crisis. 

“Oh, on the contrary. We’re nothing if not efficient.” 

Harry purses his lips to hold in a laugh and shakes his head, eyeing him before turning back to face forward. If Louis is thriving off the way he can make Harry laugh in the most serious of situations, he isn’t going to admit it. 

(Not even to himself.)

( _Go away,_ subconscious.)

“So, what are we going to—” 

_“Louis!”_

And well, fuck. 

Louis whips around quickly, eyebrows reaching his hairline. All hopes of him being completely wrong on who’s called his name are diminished when he sees the broad built he’d unfortunately know anywhere. In a charcoal tuxedo, with a veil in his left hand, Jackson struts toward them at almost lightning speed. 

“Shit,” Harry whispers, looking back and forth frantically between Louis and the man heading toward them. “What are we going to say?” 

Louis cocks his head to the side and squints at Harry. “The truth?” 

“We don’t know anything!” 

“So we improvise.” He leans slightly into Harry’s side while keeping an eye on Jackson. “Now, stop looking like I killed your cat or he’s going to freak out.” 

“As if he isn’t going to—” 

“Jackson!” Louis interrupts loudly, when the groom finally reaches them. He puts a hand on his hip and smiles innocently, ignoring the stony look on the man’s face. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Where the hell have you all been?” Jackson snaps, eyes darting between the two men. Louis only hopes that Harry doesn’t look like he’s about to burst into tears anymore. 

“Didn’t Mrs. Montgomery tell you we would be late?” 

“Yes, but it’s been over an hour. The ceremony was supposed to start _thirty minutes ago._ Everyone’s waiting!” he groans, waving his arms sporadically. “You couldn’t have called me? None of you could have said anything to _anyone?_ And Harry,” Louis feels him go rigid next to him, their sides slightly touching. He puts pressure into the side of Harry’s thigh with the knuckle of his ring finger, urging the taller man to _relax._ “Why the hell did you go?” 

“W-well you see, uhm, I—” 

“I asked if I could borrow his car to take the girls, and Harold here offered to drive us all instead,” Louis cuts in, grabbing Harry’s bicep for emphasis. “ _Apparently_ I’m not trusted enough to operate his Jeep.” 

Harry lets out an awkward laugh, a bit _too_ forced and Louis tries not to cringe. “Well, you did have _a bit_ of trouble.”

Jutting out his jaw and narrowing his eyes slightly, Louis lets out a humorless laugh and Harry mirrors it with a genuine one, clearly finding his comment _hilarious._

It’s cut short with Louis secretly elbowing him in the ribs.

Harry coughs into the crook of his arm to hide his wince. 

Jackson’s eyes only narrow in response to their interaction. _Jesus Christ_ , he isn’t making this any easier. When he doesn’t respond, Louis continues his excuse. “And...you seemed busy with the minister and we didn’t want to stress you out? Sorry mate.” 

The groom's eyes dart between the two of them and Louis swallows a lump in his throat. This is taking a lot longer than he wanted. So much for _in-and-out._ “Whatever,” the groom mutters, going to turn around. “Let’s just—wait, where are they?” 

“Where are who?” Harry asks, faking oblivion (rather badly). Louis clasps his hands together in an attempt to keep from face palming and responds with a _hm?_

Jackson clenches his jaw. “Ada? Summer? My fucking _fiancé_ and her maid of honor?” 

Harry lets out a squeak, which he tries to disguise as a cough and Louis closes his eyes in response, trying not to outwardly glare at the curly-headed man. “Sorry,” Harry chokes out, still pretending to get over a coughing fit. “I must have something in my throat.” 

_“Where_ is she?” 

After Harry clears his throat, he takes a step forward to put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. The other man raises an eyebrow at the gesture, which only leads Harry to look at him solemnly. _Dear God._ “Listen bro, maybe we should sit—”

“She’s not here,” Louis blurts out, unable to endure the conversation for any longer. 

Harry whips his head to him with eyes wide and a slack jaw, but Jackson’s reaction is what Louis focuses on. The man faces him, but completely stills. 

And Louis continues to wait for a response, but it doesn’t come. 

Jackson continues to stare at him with an unreadable expression on his face, but makes no move to acknowledge the three words that left Louis’ mouth. To relieve some awkwardness, Louis scratches the back of his neck and looks to Harry, but quickly averts his gaze to the painting on the wall behind him when he sees his scowl. 

Is this a scenario where Louis may have jumped the gun? 

All signs point to yes. 

So there they are; three men in full suits standing in the middle of a narrow hallway, mere feet away from a buzzing wedding ceremony, not moving a muscle nor saying a single word. 

Louis is going to lose it. 

“So on that note—”

Jackson takes a step forward to grab Louis, but Harry puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Louis looks at the two men with raised brows and lips slightly parted, but doesn’t say a word. He mentally thanks Harry for intercepting whatever Jackson was stepping toward to do however. 

Because what the _fuck?_

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Jackson says, eyes narrowing. Louis looks between the groom and Harry’s hand on his shoulder.

“Were you about to—”

“Just answer the question,” he spits. Louis raises his hands in defense, completely taken aback at Jackson’s reaction (but not really because, well, it’s _Jackson)._

He remains quiet and bounces on the balls of his feet, not sure whether or not to continue speaking. Harry slowly removes his hand off of Jackson’s shoulder—once he’s sure he’s not going to make any sudden movements—and goes to stand next to Louis. Both men stare at the groom warily, a bit more hesitant to say anything that may trigger an unexpected reaction. 

“We mean...she didn’t come back with us? To the venue?” Harry clarifies, his voice reaching a higher pitch than before. Louis nods slowly, afraid to open his mouth and accidentally say whatever fails to filter through his brain.

“But—are you telling me she left me at our fucking wedding?” 

“Yes?” Harry squeaks.

“Our wedding,” Jackson repeats. “She’s calling off our fucking wedding?” 

“That _is_ what he just said, yes,” Louis says with a tight-lipped smile. 

Jackson lets out a humorless laugh before turning around, leaving both Louis and Harry to quickly turn to one another.

 _“Why would you blurt that out?!”_ Harry whispers.

_“We obviously weren’t getting anywhere with your plan!”_

Harry runs a hand down his face and winces at Jackson’s current state, and Louis bites his lip to hide anything but a neutral expression from appearing on his face at the man pacing in front of them, tugging at his hair in frustration. 

“Why?” Jackson demands, heading back toward Harry and Louis with a scowl on his face. “Why the hell would she leave?” 

Louis takes a (tiny, _super_ tiny) step back when he continues to walk toward them, with his eyes set on _Louis_ specifically. But Harry immediately takes a step forward and places himself slightly in front of him, blocking any direct line Jackson has toward him. 

He makes a mental note to start planning out his apologies for everything he’s ever said about Harry. 

“You need to relax,” Harry warns, his voice lowering a couple octaves. “Don’t shoot the messengers.” 

“Then tell me why the fuck I’ve just been left at the alter!” 

“Because—” he stops abruptly, and Louis _immediately_ knows why. 

_“Ask him yourself.”_ Ada said.

 _And thank you for that Ada_ , _thank you so fucking much._ That makes answering Jackson’s question a bit difficult, doesn’t it? 

“I think you know why,” Louis says instead, taking a few steps forward until he’s next to Harry again. He crosses his arms over his chest and spreads his feet out a bit more than shoulder-width apart, tilting his chin up to level with Jackson. 

The groom tries to keep his composure, but Louis can see the moment where a realization dawns on him. _Interesting._ “What did she tell you?” 

“She didn’t tell us— _ow!_ ” 

Louis jabs his elbow into Harry’s side again before coughing to cover the man’s yelp. “You know exactly what, and to be completely honest—it’s been a long time coming.” 

What happens after is nothing less but chaotic. 

Jackson’s entire demeanor immediately falters and he lets out a frustrated groan. _“God,_ I told her it wasn’t a big deal.” 

Louis and Harry turn to each other with blank expressions, before facing Jackson again. “Come again?” they say simultaneously, both taking a small step forward with their heads tilted.

Jackson’s eyes widen and he puts his hands out, “ _Nothing happened._ I was just visiting, I think we both needed the closure.” 

Louis blinks. “The closure…?” 

“Yes!” Jackson nods, thinking Louis understands.

Louis in fact, did not understand. 

“Closure from who exactly?” 

“Alexis.” 

Louis squints and his eyes dart to the side, still not following. “Who is—” 

“You fucking went and saw your _ex-girlfriend?”_ Harry interrupts loudly, mouth agape. 

Jackson takes a quick step backward at Harry’s reaction, and Louis' eyes nearly pop out of his head. 

_Holy mother of God._

“Excuse me—”

“I thought you said—”

“When the hell did you even go see her?” Harry continues, completely appalled. Louis tries not to focus on the vein that bulges out of his forehead, making him look a bit older and kind of ho—

_No. Nope. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Not the time._

“Last night, after we left the club,” Jackson explains obliviously, confused as to why they would want to hear the story again. 

As Jackson and Harry stare each other down, Louis takes a small step back, unsure of what to do or where to go from here. 

Because what in the actual hell is happening? 

He takes in his surroundings to search for cameras. Or a director. Perhaps a producer? Because surely, _surely_ , this is a joke. He has to have some sort of amnesia and completely forgot that he’s starring in his own twisted biopic.

Would it be on HBO? Hallmark? The possibilities are endless.

“You went and saw your ex-girlfriend last night,” Harry deadpans, and it brings Louis back to reality. 

“She texted me and asked if we could talk.” Jackson bites on the hangnail of his thumb and glances between Harry and Louis. “What’s with all of these questions? She already told you this.” 

“She texted you last night and you responded?” Harry continues, ignoring his comment. Louis raises an eyebrow at his rough tone and tries not to smirk. 

_Harry’s in interrogation mode,_ and he’s not complaining.

“Yes, but—”

Louis gasps and points at Jackson. “ _That’s_ why you hid your phone when we got to the club!” 

“What—” 

“I _knew_ that was sus.” He nudges Harry, “Harry, I knew that was sus.”

“Yes, thank you Lou.” Harry shakes his head and turns back to the groom. “So not only were you texting Alexis, you went and saw her after your Bachelor party?” 

“I—”

“The night before your _wedding?_ ” Louis adds, his eyes narrowing. Now that the shock had worn off, he was finally grasping the gravity of the situation. 

And he did not like it one bit. 

“We both needed closure. Harry, you know how bad a breakup can be! You did the same thing with David!” 

David? _Huh._

“It wasn’t the night before—”

“You don’t fucking _just_ get closure at three in the morning the night before your wedding, mate,” Louis snaps, taking a step forward. Harry puts a hand on his shoulder protectively and Louis doesn’t shrug it off, but he doesn’t (outwardly) acknowledge it either. “You seriously expect us to believe that?” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you.” 

Jackson clenches his jaw and takes another step forward, sizing Louis up. They’re only a few inches apart, and Louis bites the inside of his cheek to keep his expressions neutral.

He would really appreciate not getting punched in the face today. 

“I told her _right_ after I left, she said it was fine!” 

“She said those words exactly?” Harry questions with a raised eyebrow. 

“She—she actually didn’t answer me. But she showed up this morning, so I figured—”

“Well, look how that turned out,” Louis laughs humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Jackson takes another step forward and Louis’ eyes widen slightly. “Tomlinson, I swear to God—” 

Harry pulls Louis back almost immediately and steps in front of him. And _fucking hell_ he needs to stop doing that, it’s messing with Louis’...equilibrium. 

(Yeah, that’s it.) 

“The fact of the matter is, it _wasn’t fine,”_ Harry sneers. “And so she left.” 

“And you drove her? You let her leave?” 

“Of course we—” Louis shuts up when Harry fixes him with a look. _Right,_ okay. He’s got this. 

“Of course we did,” Harry chirps. “It was…” he locks eyes with Louis for a brief moment before turning back to Jackson. _“We were just trying to help out a friend.”_

Louis blinks. 

And then he blinks again. 

In the last ten minutes (or really, ever since last night), Harry Styles has not only shown, but _proven,_ that he will be the death of Louis Tomlinson. 

And Louis might be okay with that. 

Jackson stares at the two men bewildered, gaping like a fish out of water. He turns to sit on the bench near the door to the back patio, staring out blankly in front of him. “So...so that’s it then? It’s over?” 

Harry and Louis share a careful look, before nodding. “Yeah, it’s over.” 

Jackson breathes out and shakes his head, unable to process the information. Before Louis and Harry can even make a move to leave him alone, he stands up abruptly. “I need to go, I can’t be here.”

Harry nods slowly, “We understand.” 

But Louis looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. Because _no,_ he can’t leave. Who is going to tell the rest of the guests? 

“I can’t—I can’t _believe_ you, Harry,” Jackson spits, pushing past him on his way out. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as he looks after him. 

“I should be saying the same to you, mate!” he yells out. Jackson waves him off as he stumbles off, in the _opposite_ direction of the ceremony. It isn’t until he’s almost out of the building that Louis visibly swallows. 

_Fucking shit._

Louis can’t even rejoice in the fact that Jackson is out of Ada’s life forever, or that he didn’t acknowledge him on the way out, because he had just _left_ without saying _anything_ to the guests _._

“Haz,” Louis nudges him, but Harry doesn’t respond. He continues looking out after Jackson until he’s almost completely out of sight. He nudges again. _“Harry.”_

“What?” 

“Go get him!” 

_“What?_ Why?!” 

“He was supposed to tell everyone!” Louis whines, hands waving sporadically in between the door and where Jackson had sauntered off. “We were supposed to be done!” 

Harry looks between the door and where Jackson had just left, his eyes widening a little more each time he turned his head. “Oh, _shit.”_

“Yeah,” Louis nods with a clenched jaw. “‘ _Oh shit,’_ is right, you oaf!” 

“Do _not_ get mad at me about this,” Harry snaps. “You’re the one who was riling him up!” 

“He probably cheated on my best friend last night! Do you expect me to be _calm_ about that?” 

“I—”

“Come _on,_ Harry!” Louis practically yells, pacing back and forth. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, not even caring that his quiff is probably completely torn apart now.

Is he thankful that Ada was able to get out of the relationship before they tied the knot? A thousand times yes. 

Is he angry it took this long? Is he absolutely _livid_ that this guy, who he never really liked in the first place, did this to his best friend? 

Damn right he is.

“How are you friends with that guy?” he breathes out, completely overwhelmed. Harry raises an eyebrow at his state, not used to seeing Louis so distraught. 

“Uhm—I’m...not really?” 

Louis whips his head around to face him, but Harry’s currently looking down at his feet, scuffing the marble floor with his shoes and completely avoiding eye contact. 

_Huh?_

“I’m sorry?” 

“We’re not really...close? I mean...yeah, we’re really not.” Harry huffs out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, looking up to make eye contact with Louis. 

Louis opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He just looks incredulously at the man in front of him, not knowing how to respond. Harry’s eyes dart from side to side as he waits for Louis to say something, but he ends up waiting a lot longer than he anticipates.

Louis has actually been rendered speechless. 

“Bu-but you...you’re the best...you’re... _what?”_ he sputters, dropping his head back and looking at the ceiling in despair. 

It’s at this moment that Louis wonders what his life has come to. 

“I’m a member at his gym and we grab drinks sometimes,” Harry explains with a shrug, as if—as _if—_ that answers any and all questions Louis has. 

“But you’re the _best man!”_ Louis exclaims, taking a few steps toward Harry. “That isn’t given to someone you just get drinks with!” The taller man ends up leaning up against the door to the patio, nodding along to Louis with a pained expression.

And _good,_ he should feel ridiculous about this. Louis feels relieved that he has _some_ sense. 

“I know it sounds weird...and it is!” he adds quickly when Louis fixes him with a look. “But...you can’t really say _no_ when someone asks you to be their best man! Can you?” 

“Did he ask you at the gym?” 

“Yes?” Harry squeaks. 

“Then that gives you every damn right to say no! Jesus Christ, Harry,” Louis laughs, completely taken aback at the sheer absurdity of the situation. 

“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings! And to be fair, I have been going to his gym for a couple of months now,” Harry defends with a grin covering his face, essentially admitting defeat. Louis takes a minute to admire his smile; his two front teeth are a bit larger than the others, like a bunny. Cute. 

“God, was that not a sign to you? That he asked you, someone he’s barely friends with?” 

Harry shrugs, knocking his head back onto the door with a short laugh. “I guess he doesn’t have many friends.” 

Louis blinks and Harry takes his bottom lip in between his teeth. 

“Yeah, _okay,_ that should’ve been a red flag.” 

Louis laughs, nudging him as he goes to lean back against the door as well. The two of them break into a fit of giggles at their current state. How in _God’s name_ did they end up here? 

“If it makes you feel any better—”

Whatever Louis was about to say, Harry doesn’t get the chance to figure out. Because as life will have it, the door they’re leaning against suddenly swings wide open, revealing the cool September air.

And also, wedding goers. 

Louis and Harry both stumble backwards with wide eyes, nearly falling flat onto the concrete at the sudden lack of support on their backs. They frantically grab onto each other for some support, and Louis is _really_ hoping he doesn’t fall straight on his ass. Once they finally regain their balance, they look up to see over a hundred pairs of eyes staring directly at them. 

“Hello?” the minister asks from the altar, looking at the two men with a bewildered expression. 

Louis hears Harry gulp.

Quickly, the two of them straighten up and fix their suits. They run their hands down any wrinkles that may have appeared from their almost-tumble and through their hair, trying to avoid any and _all_ eye contact. 

Louis can’t begin to describe just how brutal this is about to be. 

They start to make their way up to the altar—which, _yikes—_ and past all of the guests that are seated on the benches, watching their every move. In an attempt to be discreet, Harry presses his shoulder into Louis’, nearly knocking him over.

“Jesus Christ, be careful,” Louis whispers harshly, pushing him back with just as much force. 

“What the hell are we going to say?” Harry replies in an equally hushed tone, but a bit more frantic. He leans down a bit so he’s near Louis’ ear. 

“I don’t know,” Louis replies, throwing tight smiles at guests he makes eye contact with as they go down the aisle. “I was hoping you had an idea?” 

_“Me?_ You’re the writer!” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Louis whisper-yells. 

“You have a way with words! You’re much more eloquent than me!” 

“That is the most—oh _hi,_ Mrs. Montgomery,” Louis waves, as they reach the end of the aisle, throwing a stiff wave at Ada’s mother. 

He pointedly ignores the daggers she’s shooting at him from her seat. 

“She does _not_ look happy,” Harry mumbles as they start to climb up the five steps to the altar. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Thank you for that observation, Harold. Did you also know that the sky is blue?” 

“You don’t have to be a dick, you know?” 

“I’m not—”

“Gentlemen?” the minister interrupts, breaking up their bickering. The two of them turn to him with surprised expressions, almost forgetting they’re standing in the middle of a wedding ceremony with over a hundred pairs of eyes following their every move. “Is there something you’d like to say?” 

Harry’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and Louis puffs his cheeks out in order not to say anything. So maybe, just _maybe,_ Summer and Ada were right about this being more complicated than they would have thought.

This has definitely not been an in-and-out situation. 

“Uhm,” Louis swallows. “Yes, actually.” He turns to face the crowd, and Harry follows his actions. After surveying the group of wedding goers (and making eye contact with Ada’s sister and avoiding that area at _all costs)_ , he takes a deep breath.

This couldn’t go _terrible_ , could it? 

“Hi everyone,” he waves, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He hears mumbles from the crowd in return, and _so far so good._ “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Louis. I’m...Ada’s bridesman.” 

Does he use present tense? Past tense? Past tense would give it away before he even has a chance to break the news, but _present_ tense is lying. It’s lying straight through his teeth!

He will be taking _a lot_ more than the food processor from the registry. 

“And this is Harry, the best man,” he gestures to the man on his left, and Harry gives the crowd a small wave. He has a tight smile on his face, which looks more painful than it’s worth. “Harry and I are very happy that you all could make it here today, and we know it means a lot to both Ada and Jackson that you wished to celebrate this momentous time with them.” _Okay, now you’re overdoing it, Louis._

Harry coughs to cover up a laugh, and Louis has to pinch his leg quite hard to keep himself from joining. This is _not_ funny, absolutely not. 

“As you all know, the ceremony has been delayed a bit due to some…technical difficulties so to speak. And on behalf of the wedding party, we’d like to apologize for that.” He pauses for a moment to swallow, his mouth suddenly going dry. _Dear God, how was he supposed to do this?_ “However—” 

“Ada’s gone. The wedding is off.” 

Louis turns his head to Harry so fast he nearly gets whiplash. The taller man slaps a hand over his mouth at his outburst and gasps are heard around the patio, guests standing up one by one in disbelief. 

_“What?”_

_“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?”_

_“The wedding is off?”_

Louis swallows, looking like a deer in headlights. “Uhm—” 

The questions get louder and louder, with more individuals standing by the second. _Thanks a lot, H._

“We’re sorry everyone, but due to unforeseen circumstances the wedding has been cancelled,” Louis continues, wincing as the harmony of the guests’ voices gets higher. “Ada and Jackson will be sure to update you all more once they’re ready, but that’s all we know.” 

“So what? We just leave?” one of the guests yells out. 

Both Harry and Louis look at each other, then shrug. “Uhm, you’re all happy to stay for the reception if you’d like, so the food doesn’t go to waste...but if not, you’re free to go,” Harry replies, scratching the back of his scalp awkwardly. 

That’s all that’s needed for the remaining guests to get up from their seats and grab their things. The two of them stay put as guests begin to make their way through the backdoor and into the building. 

“I guess no one’s in the mood to party then,” Harry states. Louis lets out a chuckle. 

“Way to jump the gun,” he says through gritted teeth, jabbing his elbow into Harry’s side as they look out to the chaos unfolding in front of their eyes.

“You were taking too long and I panicked. Also you need to stop doing that!” Harry rubs the side of his torso, scowling at Louis.

“You’re the one who said I should speak!” 

“Well...I take it back!” he says stubbornly, eyes darting between Louis and the dispersing crowd in front of them. 

“You can’t take it back after it’s already happened!” Louis argues incredulously.

“Louis?” a nearby voice says delicately, a sharp contrast to the harshness of the other guests. 

Louis turns around and is greeted by Ada’s mother, who is looking at both of the men with curiosity rather than apprehension. 

“Mrs. Montgomery,” he says softly, walking down a few steps to reach her. He takes a deep breath as he gets closer to her, but isn’t able to see any resentment in her eyes.

Which is an absolute relief. 

“I am _so_ sorry about this, Ada just—” 

“Oh, I’ll talk to her later about all of this,” she waves him off, grabbing his shoulder comfortingly. He leans into the touch, the stress already diminishing slightly. The frantic edge to her voice from the phone call earlier is nowhere in sight. “Is she alright?” 

He nods slowly, “I think so. Summer is with her right now.” 

“Good,” she smiles. “That’s good. And how are you?” 

His brows furrow. “Me?” 

“Yes, silly,” she chuckles. “I can’t imagine this has been easy for you, or Harry for that matter.” She points back to where Harry is standing awkwardly, yelling out to guests that the reception _can_ still happen if they’d like. 

Louis fights the smile growing on his lips. 

(And loses.) 

“I’m fine,” he replies. “I think he’s alright as well, just a bit overwhelmed. It’s been a long day.” 

“Oh, I bet,” she nods. “All started with going to get those vows, hm?” 

He looks down at his shoes to hide his flushed cheeks. Good to know that Ada’s mother could see right through her lie.

“I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about Mrs. Montgomery,” he grins, moving his hair out of his eyes to distract himself. He hears her chuckle. 

“Oh please Louis, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Janice,” she sighs, going to adjust his tie. “You’re practically family.” 

“Force of habit.” 

She smiles and her eyes dart to behind him again, crinkling in the process. “Is he good to you?” 

Louis blinks at the sudden topic change, a topic change that he isn’t able to keep up with. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Harry. Is he good to you?” she clarifies, looking in between both men with a soft smile.

He looks behind to the man in question—who is now talking to the minister—and then back to Janice. He then repeats the action. His head tilts to the side and she throws him a knowing look.

And oh.

_Oh._

_Fucking hell._

He starts to shake his head frantically. “Mrs. Montgomery, we aren’t—” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Sure you aren’t. Keep telling yourself that, honey.” 

“We—we just met last night!” he whispers, looking back at Harry to make sure he isn’t listening. “I barely know him!” 

“If _that’s_ how you two act without knowing one another, I’d love to see how you are when you do,” she winks, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving love, take care!” 

When she leaves, Louis doesn’t move. Her comment still echoes in his mind and leaves him with his mouth hanging wide open.

Louis is, once again, going to faint.

Because _dear God._

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turns to go over to Harry. He can only hope that his face doesn’t give away anything about the conversation he’s just had. 

As if it wasn’t enough that his subconscious was liking Harry _a lot_ more than Louis’ _actual_ self would like to admit, his best friend’s _mother_ now had to pull him into a tailspin. 

This is….not good. 

“How did it go?” Harry asks cheerfully, saying goodbye to the minister when he saunters off. Louis bids a farewell too, leaving them as the only two people left outside. 

“It was fine,” he replies, but it comes out clipped. Harry raises an eyebrow at his reaction, but Louis shrugs it off and takes a seat on the set of stairs they’re on. Without a second thought, Harry follows. 

“It’s a shame no one stayed for the reception,” Harry sighs, placing his chin into the palm of his hand. 

“Did you expect anything different?” Louis laughs, leaning back to balance himself on his forearms. “We kind of killed the mood there.” 

“Yes, ruining a wedding will do that, won’t it?” Harry sighs in defeat, leading Louis to let out a cackle. 

“We did not—” 

“Oh my God,” Harry gasps, sitting up completely straight. It catches Louis so off guard that he sits up straight as well.

“H? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder alarmingly, but the other man simply stares out at the empty benches with a horrified expression.

“My cake!” 

Louis blinks. And then blinks again. “Your...cake?” 

“Yes!” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the ends, visibly distraught. 

“We...we just called off a wedding and you’re worried about your cake?” 

“We? _You_ did.” 

Louis’s eyes narrow. “Actually—”

“It was supposed to be cut at the reception! But now there _is no_ reception! What’s going to happen to it? Are they just going to throw it out?” he rambles, completely ignoring their previous conversation. 

Louis blinks rapidly, trying to keep up with Harry’s monologue. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard the man this frantic. “Uhm, I—” 

“Why did everyone have to leave? It’s marble!” 

Louis perks up. “Marble?” 

“And it has buttercream frosting, and—” 

“Buttercream, huh?” Louis licks his bottom lip and leans in curiously to what the other man is saying. Consider his interest peaked. 

“ _Yes,_ buttercream. What the hell am I supposed to do with it?” 

It falls silent between them for a brief moment as Harry puts his face into his hands and Louis weighs his options.

Of course, _of course,_ there are a million things telling him not to indulge Harry. A million things telling him that he _cannot_ under _any_ circumstances, spend more time with this boy than what has been deemed necessary. 

He should just go home, grab the bottle of wine he wasn’t able to drink last night, and erase any and every thought of Harry Styles; because there is no reason to ever see him again.

...But there are also a million things telling him to let go. 

Telling him to maybe, just maybe, get to know the sarcastic curly haired man in front of him. Telling him to find out everything about the endearing baker who hasn’t put up with _any_ of his shit since the moment they met, who has fought Louis’ fire with ice.

And has easily made this one of the most bizarre, yet fun days of Louis’ whole year.

He thinks he should get to know those vibrant green eyes and the deep dimples that haven’t left his mind in the last seventeen hours.

So he decides he has nothing to lose. 

“You know, Labor day is coming up.” 

Harry separates his fingers to peek his eye through. “Labor day?” 

Louis nods, trying not to visibly cringe at what he’s trying to say. “Yep, I think that calls for a celebration. Don’t you think?” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow at his comment and he lifts his head up from his hands. Louis nibbles on his bottom lip in anticipation, _praying_ he doesn’t have to spell this out for him.

Fortunately, he can practically see the light bulb flash above the man’s head when his eyes light up. A smirk covers his face almost immediately. 

“You’re right, it _does_ call for a celebration.” 

He feels that familiar flutter in his stomach again, and this time he doesn’t ignore it. 

Getting up, he brushes the imaginary dust off his suit. “Shall I grab the champagne to mark this momentous occasion?” 

“Absolutely,” Harry replies, equally as posh. Louis holds out his hand, and he immediately grabs it for leverage to get up. “In the meantime, I’ll grab the cake?” 

When Harry finally stands back up and is at Louis’ level, the two men lock eyes. Neither of them make a move to move away or let go of the other’s hand. Harry briefly glances down at their interlocked fingers, a soft smile playing on his full lips.

Louis mimics the expression. “Sounds like a plan.” 

**_⸻FOUR HOURS LATER⸻_ **

“A Maserati?” 

“Too posh.” 

“What about a Range Rover?” 

“Too big.” 

“A BMW? Those can be small right?” 

“There is _nothing_ wrong with my Prius, Harry.” Louis giggles, taking another sip of his bubbly beverage. “Leave it be!”

Harry lifts his hands up in defeat, before taking another bite of his cake. “I just think you aren’t indulging yourself enough.” 

“Is that so?” Louis asks playfully, kicking his feet up to rest in Harry’s lap. Harry nods seriously, not taking his eyes off of Louis' laid-back posture. 

“Absolutely. You’re young, a bestselling author, and you drive a _Prius?_ Seriously, Lou?” 

“I like that it’s electric!”

“Then get a Tesla!” 

“No!” he giggles again, and oh my _God,_ when did he start giggling so much? It’s the champagne. It has to be. They’ve finished nearly three bottles of it (in moderation, of course), there’s no way it could be anything else. 

Well, Harry _is_ very good company. So maybe it could be. 

The past four hours have been filled with cake ( _very_ delicious cake), champagne, childhood stories, and a completely ridiculous retelling of the whirlwind day they’ve had.

Did he mention champagne? 

As it turns out, Harry’s from Connecticut. Moved down to New York to attend NYU for business, but dropped out because he hated it (Louis could sympathize). After taking a year off and working as a cashier at a bakery in Queens, he decided to go to culinary school. He quickly realized he had a knack for baking and still had some contacts within the business program at NYU. 

The rest is history. 

Louis also found out that he has one older sister and a _lovely_ mother, both still residing in Connecticut and are _very supportive,_ which he absolutely adores. He also recently adopted a kitten named Lily, which led to Louis politely informing him that he will _not be_ _leaving him alone_ until he has the pleasure of meeting said feline. 

Harry easily agreed. 

And for every bit of information Harry tells Louis, Louis easily feeds back. It’s only fair right? So he tells him about Boston and how he hated the cold, but obviously not _too_ much because he landed in New York of all places. He mentions his seven loud _and_ obnoxious, but absolutely adorable, siblings, which leads to Harry _begging_ to see photos of them and absolutely cooing over the selfies with their big brother. 

He tells him about how he’s always loved writing, but was originally too afraid to pursue a career in it; only for Ada to convince him to give it a try.

 _“And look at you now,”_ Harry had sung, lightly rubbing a finger across Louis’ bicep. 

And yeah, look at him now. 

Once they recover from their latest laughing fit, Harry wipes his mouth with a napkin before throwing it onto his empty plate. He snuggles deeper into his chair, only a few inches away from Louis’. “So, I do have a question.” 

“Oh God, _please_ no more interrogations,” Louis teases, nudging Harry’s stomach with his foot. The man squirms at the contact, but doesn’t move it. “Alright, what’s your question?” 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “What _really_ happened in London?” 

Louis throws his head back and lets out a cackle. “Oh my God!” 

“ _Please_ , tell me Lou! I read the book when it first came out and have been dying to know for months!” Harry clasps both of his hands together, shaking them for mercy.

Louis feels his blood rushing through his body, and hopes he isn’t visibly flustered at learning Harry bought the novel _right_ when it came out. 

“Harry—” 

“Please,” Harry groans. “I can’t wait another year!” That only leads to Louis cracking up further.

“I’m not spoiling the sequel for you!” 

“But why not?” 

“Because then you won’t buy it! I need to make a living wage, Harold!” 

“Of course I’m still going to buy it, silly,” he lightly slaps the bare part of Louis’ ankle peeking out of his pants. “Doesn't mean you can’t give me the inside scoop.” 

“That _absolutely_ means I can’t give you the inside scoop.” 

Harry tilts his head back and groans. “Okay, okay, fine. One more question though.” 

Louis’ eyes widen, “Oh, so this really _is_ an interrogation?” 

“Last one, I promise!” 

Louis purses his lips and nods. “Make it count then.” 

Harry bites his lip, a small smile playing on them. “What’s the _real_ reason you hate weddings so much?” 

And Louis should have absolutely seen this one coming. 

And for once, he feels like being completely transparent.

The right side of his mouth quirks up a bit and he snuggles deeper into his suit jacket, which is now lying across him like a blanket. “Honestly? It just seems stressful.” 

“Stressful? Harry asks, but this time, there’s no judgement behind his words. His head is slightly tilted to the side, and he has a slight frown. He’s simply curious, and that eases Louis’ nerves a bit. 

Louis nods. “The planning seems like...a lot? And I feel like it could lead to some pointless arguments.” 

“That’s the fun part though,” Harry grins. “You figure out each other’s likes and dislikes that you never even thought to find out beforehand.” 

“That is true.” Louis plays with a loose string on this jacket, avoiding eye contact. “But what if it leads to a deeper argument? What if it doesn’t stop at the color swatches or the cake testing?” 

He sees Harry nod slowly, starting to understand. “What if the argument turns into something outside of the wedding. Something about the marriage itself?”

“What if you start resenting each other?” 

He goes quiet for a bit, and Louis’ heart rate picks up. _So much for keeping a light mood._ “So you think it’ll jinx the whole marriage?” 

“In a sense,” Louis confirms. “Why argue about a part of your life that hasn’t started yet, you know?” He chews on his bottom lip before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m so sorry, I know that’s silly.” 

“It’s not,” Harry replies immediately. “Not at all.” 

Louis waves him off. “You don’t have to say that, trust me I know it’s ridiculous to base it all off of hypotheticals.” 

“It isn’t ridiculous though,” Harry argues, sitting up straighter. He grabs Louis' ankle protectively and starts rubbing circles on his Achilles heel. It lowers Louis’ heart rate a bit, but also causes spikes at the same time. 

Louis simply nods, not wanting to argue with Harry anymore (or ever again). 

They sit in silence for a bit, Louis nursing the rest of his champagne and Harry using his plastic fork to tap his empty paper plate. It isn’t uncomfortable like in the car that morning however, it’s peaceful. It’s the type of silence you wish for on a trip to the beach, so you can hear the waves crashing ashore and the seagulls flying past. It’s the type of silence you wish for in a library so you don’t have to keep rereading the same passage over and over.

It’s a comfortable silence.

“You want to know what I think of weddings?” 

Louis looks up to see Harry laser-focused on drawing patterns on his ankles, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You love them,” Louis points out rather obviously. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I do, but do you want to know why?” 

Louis nods, and sits up a bit to listen more intently. The little affirmation of that action makes Harry’s lips quirk up a bit more. 

“To me, weddings celebrate love...obviously,” he laughs, to which Louis tilts his head forward in agreement. “But not only the love between those two people, but the love everyone else in the room feels for them and one another, and it celebrates the love that eventually everyone in the room will get to experience for themselves as well.” 

Louis smiles at his testament, knowing just how much he truly believes in those words, how strong he feels them. 

He’s starting to feel them a bit himself. 

“And I also think if it gets to the point where two people are married, and they make it through all the fights about the color swatches and the cake tastings,” he pauses to laugh and Louis chuckles. “If they get through all of that, I think that helps prepare them for the big stuff, for the deeper stuff. It builds resilience, it can _prevent_ that resentment.” 

“It can prevent the jinx,” Louis completes.

Harry smirks. “It can prevent the jinx.” 

Lous bites his tongue and nods for him to continue. “And...yeah, I don’t know. I just feel there are definitely scenarios where the engagement and the planning can lead to resentment and the two people can end up not getting married or end up divorced. But is that really because of the planning? Or was the relationship not strong enough to begin with?” 

“Probably the latter,” Louis mumbles. 

Harry smiles. “Maybe. And if that _is_ the case, wouldn’t it be better for it to end anyway? I mean, take Ada and Jackson for example—” 

Louis chokes out a laugh and Harry winces. “Too soon?”

He waves it off. “Keep going, love,” 

“Take Ada and Jackson for example,” he continues, placing his hand out. “It’s better that they know now that neither of them were one hundred and ten percent in it, rather than five years down the line when there may have been kids involved and other things to worry about.”

Louis tilts his head back and forth, weighing the option. “True.” 

“But,” Harry says, pointing the fork he’s been playing with at Louis, a slight smirk on his lips. “Even if there _is_ the possibility of that _maybe_ happening, is that enough of a reason not to try? Because to me, it seems like if those little fights over cake and fabric can help determine how deeper arguments can go, it seems pretty damn worth it if two people are able to get through them.” 

Louis swallows hard as he and Harry hold eye contact, not really sure on how to go about responding to that.

Because _Christ_ , how did Harry Styles just randomly walk into his life twenty hours ago? 

At Louis' silence, Harry shrugs before going back to drawing shapes on his ankle. “That’s just my outlook, but I completely get yours as well. It’s interesting.” 

Louis narrows his eyes. “You totally just did a reverse psychology trick on me, didn't you?” 

Harry purses his lips and avoids eye contact. “That depends. Are you re-evaluating?” 

“Are you actually a baker? Or did Ada send you disguised as a therapist?” 

Harry barks out a laugh. “I promise you I’m not a therapist. And I hope this cake proves that I’m a baker, and a good one at that.” 

Louis takes another bite at his seemingly abandoned piece (he’s _full,_ alright? This is all they’ve eaten in the last four hours). “I can attest to that. Thank you for your insight, Harry Styles.”

“Anytime, Louis Tomlinson.” 

Louis doesn’t mind the way his name rolls off his tongue. 

Before he can say anything he regrets, he lifts himself off of his chair with a cheerful hum. He stumbles a bit, the full extent of the alcohol he’s consumed now starting to hit him and flow through his veins. Closing his eyes for a minute to regain his balance, he giggles. 

“Maybe the third bottle was a mistake?” 

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, how else were we supposed to celebrate the creation of labor movements in the United States?” 

Louis points to him with a flirty smile on his face, _“Th_ _at_ is an excellent point, curly.” 

“Most of mine usually are.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.” 

He stumbles over to the bench right inside the building, a few feet from where they're outside on the patio, when something on the floor catches his eye. 

The veil; white, slightly sparkling due to the reflection of the moonlight through the windows stares back at him. 

It’s quite pretty. 

Without a second thought, he places it on top of his head with a smile. Half of the clip is missing, probably still in Ada’s hair somewhere, so he holds it in place with his left hand and walks back outside with the tulle covering his face. 

“I see you found the veil,” Harry comments, endearment etched into his voice. Louis’ grin widens as he makes his way up to the altar, but it’s slightly obscured due to the accessory covering his face. 

“It’s a shame no bride got kissed today,” he sighs. “What a waste of a perfectly good veil.” 

Harry puts his hands into his pockets and makes his way up the altar as well. “I think Ada dodged a bullet.” 

Louis raises an eyebrow, “So are you finally admitting that the getaway was a good idea?” 

“Not entirely, darling,” he chuckles, scrunching up his nose. _Darling._ Louis can feel his weight shift near him, Harry probably only a foot away. _“But,_ not the worst in the grand scheme of things.” 

“I’ll take it, as long as I am no longer to blame.” 

“We _all_ know it was Summer’s fault,” Harry teases. 

_“Of course,_ I’m just a _willing accomplice.”_

The two men chuckle at their teasing, and Louis can’t help but feel warm at their own inside jokes coming to fruition. Jokes that can be told over and over again for weeks, months, and years to come. 

“You know,” Harry starts, taking a step forward and grabbing a piece of the veil covering Louis’ face. He rubs it delicately between his fingers and Louis swallows at the action, feeling his heart come up into his throat. “A bride may not have been kissed today, but you look pretty close to one right now.” 

Louis bites his bottom lip, trying to hide his smile. “You think so?” 

He feels Harry’s other hand grab another piece of the tulle, and then suddenly, the fabric is no longer in his line of vision, but being lifted up behind his head. 

Harry comes into view immediately, significantly closer than before. Louis leans in a bit and their noses brush together, leaving his eyes struggling to stay open. 

He hears Harry’s breath hitch. “Yeah, I do.” 

Without another thought, Louis leans in to close the gap between them, and Harry meets him halfway. They press their lips together softly; and a feeling of warmth overcomes Louis as the two of them sink into the kiss. 

He can feel his stomach twisting and untwisting into a knot, his arms tingling as they let go of the veil to hold onto Harry’s biceps, but he doesn’t focus on that. All he can set his mind to is the beautiful boy in front of him, and how his lips are as soft as silk. 

Louis isn’t one to be dramatic _(honestly, truly!),_ but this may just be the best damn kiss he’s ever had. 

When the two of them part reluctantly, Louis presses his forehead to Harry’s and doesn’t bother to hide the smile on his lips. Harry mirrors him, stealing a peck every now and then as the two men stand at the altar, under the moonlight of the Red Hook Vineyard with the place all to themselves. 

“So,” Harry says softly, hesitant to bring any sudden noise to the quiet moment the two are sharing. “I may or may not have another wedding to attend to in two weeks.” 

“Do you now?” Louis hums, nuzzling into Harry’s neck and wrapping his arms around his waist. He’s warm, and how is that on a chilly night in New York City? 

“I do,” Harry says, a playful smile tugging his lips. “Would you want to go? Of course, only if you promise not to ruin this one too.” 

“I’m going to ignore that,” Louis chirps. It causes Harry to cackle, but then he kisses the top of his head as a form of an apology. Louis looks up at him after that and presses a kiss to his cheek, still processing the shocking turn of events from today. “But, I think I _might_ be free.” 

“Oh really?” Harry tests, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

Louis nods. “I’m a busy man, being a _bestselling_ author after all.”

“You’re really gonna milk that now, huh?”

“You brought it up first!”

Harry rolls his eyes and looks up toward the ceiling, laughing. Louis takes that moment to redirect him back to his lips with a gentle hand on his chin. 

His heart flutters. 

Because _damn,_ Harry’s a good kisser. 

When they part, Louis smiles cheekily. “I’ve checked my schedule. I’m free.”

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief. _“Thank god._ I was starting to think I’d have to call up the _other_ guy I drove a getaway car with.”

Louis giggles and slightly shoves his shoulder, but Harry just wraps his arms tighter around his waist. “Pick you up at eight?” 

At Louis’ nod, Harry caresses his cheek, eyes darting between his eyes and lips. “Perfect.” 

“Perfect,” Louis whispers back.

Harry wraps his arms around him again to provide some warmth, and they rock back and forth together, before Louis breaks the silence with a slight chuckle.

“Let’s hope this one ends better than the last, yeah?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> I'm thinking of writing a series of one shots to follow this fic as a sort of mini-series. If that's something you'd be interesting in, please feel free to leave a comment/kudos or let me know on my [tumblr!](https://solvetheminourdreams.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (And if you have a moment, you can also reblog my fic post [here](https://solvetheminourdreams.tumblr.com/post/633248118454042624/runaway-darling-stylinbros). It would mean a lot to me!)
> 
> Thank you again, I can't wait to write some more very soon. xx


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